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LOVELL’S library;-catalogue, 


. Hyperion, by IT. \Y. Longfellow. .20 
Outre-Mer, by II. \Y\ Longfellow 20 
The Happy Boy, by BjOruson . . . 10 

. Arne, by BjOrnsou. 30 

. Frankenstein, bv Mrs. Shelley. .10 

. The Last of the Mohicans 10 

. Clytie, by Joseph Hattun., ...2n 
. The Moonstone, by i olline, P't I 30 
. TheMoonstoue by Collins PHII.’l 
. Ol ver Twist, by Charles I)n kens. 20 
. The Coming R ice, by Ly tton. . . . 10 

. Leila, by Lord Lytton 30 

. The Three Spaniards, by Walker . CO 
. Tht-Tricksof the Greek sUnveiled 20 
. L’Abbe Constantin, by Halevy .20 
. Freckles, by It. F Rrdcliff .20 
, The Dark Colh en. by Harriett Jay.20 
.They Were Married 1 by Walter 

Bezant and James Rice. 1° 

, Seekers after God, by Frrar 20 

, The Spanish Nun, by D< Quincey.10 

, The Green Mountain Boys CO 

. Fleurette, by Eugene Scribe. ...20 
. Second Thoughts, by Broughton. 20 
, The New Magdalen, by Collins. >20 

. Divorce, by Margaret I. c** 20 

Life of Washington, by Henley. .20 
Social Etiquette, by M m Saville.15 
Single IL art and Double Face.. 30 

Irene, by Carl Detlef 20 

Vice Versa, by F. Anstey 20 

Ernest Mai tracers, by Lord Lytton20 
The Haunted House and Cald ron 
the Courtier, by Lord Lytton.. 10 
John Halifax, bv Miss Mulock. . .20 

800 Leagues on the Amazon 10 

The Cryptogram, by Jules Verne. 10 

Life of Marion, by Horry 20 

Paul and Virginia. 10 

Tale of Two Cities, by Dickens. . 2 

The Hermits, by Kingsley 20 

An Adventure in Thule, and Mar- 
riage of Moira Fergus, Black .10 

A Marriage in H igh Life 20 

Robin, by Mrs, Parr 20 

Two on a Tower, by Thos Hardy. 20 
Kasselas, by Samuel Johnson. ...10 
Alice; or, the Mysteries, being 
Part II. of Ernest Maltravere. .20 
Duke of Kandos, by A. Matliey . ..20 

Baron Munchausen 10 

A Princess of Thule, by Black. . 2’0 
The Secret Despatch, by Grant, 20 
Early Days of Christianity, by 
Canon Farrar. 1> D, Part I. 20 
Early Days of Christianity, Pt. II ;.v. 
Vicar of Wakeik d, by Goldsmith. 10 
Progress and Poverty, by Henry 

George .. 20 

The Spy, by Cooper 

Ea-t Lynne by Mm Wood.'. ,20 
A Strang* Story, by Lord Lytton. . '.'20 

Ad.im Bede, by Eliot, Parti 15 

Adam Bede, Part II 15 

The Golden Shaft, by Gibbon 20 

Portia, by The Duchess. . . . . . . 'J20 
Last Days of Pompeii, by Lytton. . 20 
The Two Duchesses, by Mathey. .20 
Tom Brown a School Days 20 


62 


63. 

64. 

65 

67 

63. 
6 *. 

70. 

71. 

72. 

73. 
74 
7;.. 
76. 
17. 
78. 
70. 

80. 

8 !. 

82. 

83. 

84. 

85. 

86 . 

87. 

88 . 

89. 

90. 

91. 

92. 

93. 

94. 

95. 

96. 

97. 

98. 

99. 
100 . 

101 . 

302. 

103. 

104. 

105. 

106. 
107. 

108 

109, 

110 . 
311. 
112 


The Wooing O’t, by Mrs. Alex- 
ander, Part I 3 5 

The Woo>ng O t, Part il 16 

The Vendetta, by Balzac 20 

liypalm,by ( haw. King-ley, P 1 1. 15 
Hypatia, by Kmgsiey, Part II — 15 

St- iiua, by Mes J. G. Smiih 1,5 

Margaret and ‘her Bride.- maidk. .20 
Horse Shoe Robinson, Part I .... 1 5 
Horse Shoe Robinson, Part II. ..35 

Gulliver’s Travels, by Swift 20 

Amo- Barton, by George Eliot... 10 
Tim Berber, by W E. Mayo ... .20 
Silas. Marnf r. by G< -rge Liiot. . . 30 

The Queen of the Cotn ty 20 

Life of. Cromwell, by Hood. ..15 
Jane Evre, by Charlotte; Bronte. 20 
Chi'd’a HHtory of England ... 20 
Molly Buwn. by The Duchess. . .20 

J ill >ne, by Widiam BeigsOe 35 

Phyllis, by The Duchess 20 

Romola, by Geo.'Fliot, Part I. . .15 
Romola, bv (ko-. Eliot, Part II .5 
Science in’Sh ut Chapters... .. 20 

Zanoni, by Lor i Lytton 20 

A Daughter of 11c th 20 

The Bight and Wrong Uses of 
the Bible, R. Ileber Newton, . .20 

N ght and Morning, Pr. I 15 

Night and Morning. Part II, 15 

Shandon Bells, by Wm. Black. .20 

Monica, by thepuchees.. 10 

Heart, and Science, by Collins. . 20 
The Golden Calf, by Braddon. . .20 

The Dean’s Daughter 20 . 

Mrs. Geoffrey, by The Duchess. .20 
Pickwick Papers, Part I ... . 20 

Pickwick Papers, Part If 20 

try, Fairy Lilian. TheDuche t 20 
’ i cLeod of Dare, by Wni. J lack 20 
Tempest Tossed, by Tilton P t 1 20 
Tempest Tossed, by Tilton, P 1 1120 
Letters from High Latitudes, by 

Lord Duff erin 20 

Gideon Flevce, h - ** Lucy ..20 

India and C eylon, 1 y K. Haeckel .20 

The Gypsy Queen 20 

The Admiral’s Ward 20 

Nimport, by E. L. Iiynner, P't I .15 
Nimport, by E. L. Bynner, P’t II. 35 

Harry Holbrooke 20 

Tritons, by E. L. Bynner, P’t I ... 15 
Tritons, by E. L. Bynner, P til.. 15 
Let Nothing You Pbmay, by 

Walter Besant 10 

Lady And ley’s Secret, by Miss 

M. E addon ..20 

Woman - Place To-day, by Mrs. 

Lillie Deverenx Blake 20 

Dunallan by Kennedy*, Parti... 15 
Dunallan, by Kenned y, Part IL .15 
Housekeeping a I bjme- mak- 
ing by Marion Har) d: 15 

No New Thing, by W. E. Norris. 20 

The Spoopendyke Papers 20 

False Hopes. by GoldwinBmith. 35 

Labor ar.d Capital 20 

Wanda , by Onida, Part 1 15 

W anda, byOuiaa, Part 11 15 


— 


CHARACTER SKETCHES 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 

OF 

MAJOR GEHAGAN 

AND 

HISTORY OF THE 

FRENCH REVOLUTION 


BY 

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERY. 

it 


NEW YORK: 

JOHN W. LOVELL COMPANY, 

14 and 16 Vesey Street. 



CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


CAPTAIN ROOK AND MR. PIGEON 

The statistic-mongers and dealers in geography have cal- 
culated to a nicety how many quartern loaves, bars of iron, 
pigs of lead, sacks of wool, Turks, Quakers, Methodists, Jews, 
Catholics, and Church-of-England men are consumed or pro- 
duced in the different countries of this wicked world : I should 
like to see an accurate table showing the rogues and dupes of 
each nation ; the calculation would form a pretty matter for a 
philosopher to speculate upon. The mind loves to repose and 
broods benevolently over this expanded theme. What thieves 
are there in Paris, O heavens ! and what a power of rogues 
with pigtails and mandarin buttons at Pekin ! Crowds of 
swindlers are there at this very moment pursuing their trade at 
St. Petersburg : how many scoundrels are saying their prayers 
alongside of Don Carlos ! how many scores are jobbing under 
the pretty nose of Queen Christina ! what an inordinate num- 
ber of rascals is there, to be sure, puffing tobacco and drinking 
flat small-beer in all the capitals of Germany ; or else, without 
a rag to their ebony backs, swigging quass out of calabashes, 
and smeared over with palm-oil, lolling at the doors of clay 
huts in the sunny city of Timbuctoo ! It is not necessary to 
make any more topographical allusions, or, for illustrating the 
above position, to go through the whole Gazetteer ; but he is a 
bad philosopher who has not all these things in mind, and does 
not in his speculations or his estimate of mankind duly consider 
and weigh them. And it is fine and consolatory to think that 
thoughtful Nature, which has provided sweet flowers for the 


554 


CHARACTER SKETCHES . 


humming bee ; fair running streams for glittering fish ; store of 
kids, deer, goats, and other fresh meat for roaring lions ; for 
active cats, mice ; for mice, cheese, and so on ; establishing 
throughout the whole of her realm the great doctrine that 
where a demand is, there will be a supply (see the romances of 
Adam Smith, Malthus, and Ricardo, and the philosophical 
works of Miss Martineau) : I say it is consolatory to think 
that, as Nature has provided flies for the food of fishes, and 
flowers for bees, so she has created fools for rogues ; and thus 
the scheme is consistent throughout. Yes, observation, with 
extensive view, will discover Captain Rooks all over the world, 
and Mr. Pigeons made for their benefit. Wherever shines the 
sun, you are sure to find Folly basking in it ; and knavery is 
the shadow at Folly’s heels. 

It is not, however, necessary to go to St. Petersburg or 
Pekin for rogues (and in truth I don’t know whether the Tim- 
buctoo Captain Rooks prefer cribbage or billiards). “ We are 
not birds,” as the Irishman says, “ to be in half a dozen places 
at once ; ” so let us pretermit all considerations of rogues in 
other countries, examining only those who flourish under our 
very noses. I have travelled much, and seen many men and 
cities ; and, in truth, I think that our country of England pro- 
duces the best soldiers, sailors, razors, tailors, brewers, hatters, 
and rogues, of all. Especially there is no cheat like an English 
cheat. Our society produces them in the greatest numbers as 
well as of the greatest excellence. We supply all Europe with 
them. I defy you to point out a great city of the Continent 
where half a dozen of them are not to be found : proofs of our 
enterprise and samples of our home manufacture. Try Rome, 
Cheltenham, Baden, Toeplitz, Madrid, or Tzarskoselo : I have 
been in every one of them, and give you my honor that the 
Englishman is the best rascal to be found in all ; better than 
your eager Frenchman ; your swaggering Irishman, with a red 
velvet waistcoat and red whiskers ; your grave Spaniard, with 
horrid goggle eyes and profuse diamond shirt-pins ; your tallow- 
faced German baron, with v/hite mustache and double chin, 
fat, pudgy, dirty fingers, and great gold thumb-ring; better 
even than your nondescript Russian — swindler and spy as he 
is by loyalty and education — the most dangerous antagonist we 
have. Who has the best coat even at Vienna ? who has the 
neatest britzska at Baden ? who drinks the best champagne at 
Paris ? Captain Rooks, to be sure, of her Britannic Majesty’s 
service : — he has been of the service, that is to say, but often 
finds it convenient to sell out. 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


SSS 


The life of a blackleg, which is the name contemptuously 
applied to Captain Rook in his own country, is such an easy f 
comfortable, careless, merry one, that I can’t conceive why al\ 
the world do not turn Captain Rooks ; unless, maybe, there are 
some mysteries and difficulties in it which the vulgar know 
nothing of, and which only men of real genius can overcome. 
Call on Captain Rook in the day (in London, he lives about 
St. J ames’s ; abroad, he has the very best rooms in the very best 
hotels), and you will find him at one o’clock dressed in the very 
finest robe-de-chambre , before a breakfast-table covered with the 
prettiest patties and delicacies possible ; smoking, perhaps, one 
of the biggest Meerschaum pipes you ever saw ; reading, possibly, 
The Morning Post, or a novel (he has only one volume in his 
whole room, and that from a circulating library) ; or having his 
hair dressed ; or talking to a tailor about waistcoat patterns ; or 
drinking soda-water with a glass of sherry ; all this he does 
every morning, and it does not seem very difficult, and lasts 
until three. At three, he goes to a horse-dealer’s, and lounges 
there for half an hour ; at four he is to be seen at the window 
of his Club ; at five, he is cantering and curvetting in Hyde 
Park with one or two more (he does not know any ladies, but 
has many male acquaintances ; some, stout old gentlemen rid- 
ing cobs, who knew his family, and give him a surly grunt of 
recognition ; some, very young lads with pale dissolute faces, 
little mustaches perhaps, or at least little tufts on their chin, 
who hail him eagerly as a man of fashion) : at seven, he has a 
dinner at “ Long’s ” or at the “ Clarendon ; ” and so to bed 
very likely at five in the morning, after a quiet game of whist, 
broiled bones, and punch. 

Perhaps he dines early at a tavern in Covent Garden ; after 
which, you will see him at the theatre in a private box (Captain 
Rook affects the Olympic a good deal). In the box, besides 
himself, you will remark a young man — very young — one of the 
lads who spoke to him in the Park this morning, and a couple 
of ladies : one shabby, melancholy, raw-boned, with numberless 
small white ringlets, large hands and feet, and a faded light- 
blue silk gown ; she has a large cap, trimmed with yellow, and 
all sorts of crumpled flowers and greasy blonde lace ; she wears 
large gilt earrings, and sits back, and nobody speaks to her, 
and she to nobody, except to say, “ Law, Maria, how well you 
do look to-night ; there’s a man opposite has been staring at 
you this three hours ; I’m blest if it isn’t him as we saw in the 
Park, dear ! ” 

“ I wish, Hanna, you’d ’old your tongue, and not bother me 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


55 6 

about the men. You don’t believe Miss ’Ickman, Freddy, do 
you ?” says Maria, smiling fondly on Freddy. Maria is sitting 
in front : she says she is twenty-three, though Miss Hickman 
knows very well she is thirty-one (Freddy is just of age). She 
wears a purple-velvet gown, three different gold bracelets on 
each arm, as many rings on each finger of each hand ; to one is 
hooked a gold smelling-bottle: she has an enormous fan, a laced 
pocket-handkerchief, a Cashmere shawl, which is continually 
falling off, and exposing very unnecessarily, a pair of very white 
shoulders : she talks loud, always lets her playbill drop into the 
pit, and smells most pungently of Mr. Delcroix’s shop. After 
this description it is not at all necessary to say who Maria is : 
Miss Hickman is her companion, and they live together in a 
very snug little house in May Fair, which has just been new-fur- 
nished ci la Louis Quatorze by Freddy, as we are positively in- 
formed. It is even said that the little carriage, with two little 
white ponies, which Maria drives herself in such a fascinating 
way through the Park, was purchased for her by Freddy too ; 
ay, and that Captain Rook got it for him — a great bargain of 
course. 

Such is Captain Rook’s life. Can anything be more easy ? 
Suppose Maria says, “ Come home, Rook, and heat a cold 
chicken with us, and a glass of hiced champagne;” and sup- 
pose he goes, and after chicken — just for fun — Maria proposes 
a little chicken-hazard; — she only plays for shillings, while 
Freddy, a little bolder, won’t mind half-pound stakes himself. 
Is there any great harm in all this ? Well, after half an hour, 
Maria grows tired, and Miss Hickman has been nodding asleep 
tn the corner long ago; so off the two ladies set, candle in 
hand. 

“ D — n it, Fred,” says Captain Rook, pouring out for that 
young gentleman his fifteenth glass of champagne, “ what luck 
you are in, if you did but know how to back it ! ” 

What more natural, and even kind, of Rook than to say 
this? Fred is evidently an inexperienced player; and every ex- 
perienced player knows that there is nothing like backing your 
luck. Freddy does. Well; fortune is proverbially variable; 
and it is not at all surprising that Freddy, after having had so 
much luck at the commencement of the evening, should have 
the tables turned on him at some time or other. — Freddy loses. 

It is deuced unlucky, to be sure, that he should have won all 
the little coups and lost all the great ones ; but there is a plan 
which the commonest play-man knows, an infallible means of 
retrieving yourself at play : it is simply doubling your stake. 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


557 


Say, you lose a guinea : you bet two guineas, which if you win, 
you win a guinea and your original stake : if you lose, you have 
but to bet four guineas on the third stake, eight on the fourth, 
sixteen on the fifth, thirty-two on the sixth, and so on. It stands 
to reason that you cannot lose always ; and the very first time 
you win, all your losings are made up to you. There is but 
one drawback to this infallible process ; if you begin at a 
guinea, double every time you lose, and lose fifteen times, you 
will have lost exactly sixteen thousand three hundred and 
eighty-four guineas ; a sum which probably exceeds the amount 
of your yearly income : — mine is considerably under that figure. 

Freddy does not play this game then, yet ; but being a poor- 
spirited creature, as we have seen he must be by being afraid 
to win, he is equally poor-spirited when he begins to lose : he 
is frightened : that is, increases his stakes, and backs his ill- 
luck : when a man does this, it is all over with him. 

When Captain Rook goes home, the sun is peering through 
the shutters of the little drawing-room in Curzon Street, and 
the ghastly footboy — oh, how bleared his eyes look as he opens 
the door! — when Captain Rook goes 'home, he has Freddy’s 
I O U’s in his pocket to the amount, say, of three hundred 
pounds. Some people say that Maria has half of the money 
when it is paid ; but this I don’t believe ; is Captain Rook the 
kind of fellow to give up a purse when his hand has once 
clawed hold of it ? 

Be this, however, true or not, it concerns us very little. 
The Captain goes home to King Street, plunges into bed much 
too tired to say his prayers, and wakes the next morning at 
twelve to go over such another day as we have just chalked 
out for him. As for Freddy, not poppy, nor mandragora, nor 
all the soda-water at the chemist’s, can ever medicine him to 
that sweet sleep which he might have had but for his loss. “ Ij 
I had but played my king of hearts,” sighed Fred, “ and kept 
back my trump ; but there’s no standing against a fellow who 
turns up a king seven times running : if I had even but pulled 
up when Thomas (curse him !) brought up that infernal Cura^oa 
punch, I should have saved a couple of hundred,” and so on 
go Freddy’s lamentations. O luckless Freddy! dismal Freddy ! 
silly gaby of a Freddy ! you are hit now, and there is no cure 
for you but bleeding you most to death’s door. The homoeo- 
pathic maxim of similia similibus — which means, I believe, that 
you are to be cured “ by a hair of the dog that bit you ” — • 
must be put in practice with regard to Freddy — only not in 
homoeopathic infinitesimal doses ; no hair of the dog that bit 


CHARACTER SKETCHES . 


55 § 

him ; but, vice versd , the dog of the hair that tickled him. 
Freddy has begun to play; — a mere trifle at first, but he must 
play it out ; he must go the whole dog now, or there is no 
chance for him. He must play until he can play no more ; he 
will play until he has not a shilling left to play with, when, 
perhaps, he may turn out an honest man, though the odds are 
against him ; the betting is in favor of his being a swindler 
always ; a rich or a poor one, as the case may be. I need not 
tell Freddy’s name, I think, now ; it stands on his card : — 


MR. FREDERICK PIGEON, 

long’s hotel. 


I have said the chances are that Frederick Pigeon, Esq., 
will become a rich or a poor swindler, though the first chance, 
it must be confessed, is very remote. I once heard an actor, 
who could not write, speak, or even read English ; who was 
not fit for any trade in the world, and had not the 4 nous ’ to 
keep an apple-stall, and scarcely even enough sense to make a 
Member of Parliament : I once, I say, heard an actor, — whose 
only qualifications were a large pair of legs, a large voice, and 
a very large neck, — curse his fate and his profession, by which, 
do what he would, he could only make eight guineas a week. 
“No men,” said he, with a great deal of justice, 44 were so ill 
paid as 4 dramatic artists ; ’ they labored for nothing all their 
youths, and had no provision for old age.” With this, he sighed 
and called for (it was on a Saturday night) the forty-ninth glass 
of brandy-and-water which he has drank in the course of the 
week. 

The excitement of his profession, I make no doubt, caused 
my friend Claptrap to consume this quantity of spirit and 
water, besides beer in the morning, after rehearsal ; and I 
could not help musing over his fate. It is a hard one. To 
eat, drink, work a little, and be jolly ; to be paid twice as much 
as you are worth, and then to go to ruin ; to drop off the tree 
when you are swelled out, seedy, and over-ripe ; and to lie 
rotting in the mud underneath, until at last you mingle with it. 

Now, badly as the actor is paid, (and the reader will the 
more readily pardon the above episode, because, in reality, it 
has nothing to do with the subject in hand,) and luckless as his 
fate is, the lot of the poor blackleg is cast lower still. You 
never hear of a rich gambler ; or of one who wins in the end. 



CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


559 


Where does all the money go to which is lost among them? 
Did you ever play a game at loo for sixpences ? At the end of 
the night a great many of those small coins have been lost, and 
in consequence, won : but ask the table all round ; one man 
has won three shillings ; two have neither lost nor won ; one 
rather thinks he has lost ; and the three others have lost two 
pounds each. Is not this the fact, known to everybody who 
indulges in round games, and especially the noble game of loo ? 
I often think that the devil’s books, as cards are called, are let 
out to us from Old Nick’s circulating library, and that he lays 
his paw upon a certain part of the winnings, and carries it off 
privily : else, what becomes of all the money ? 

For instance, there is the gentleman whom the newspapers 
call “ a noble earl of sporting celebrity ; ” — if he has lost a 
shilling, according to the newspaper accounts, he has lost fifty 
millions : he drops fifty thousand pounds at the Derby, just as 
you and I would lay down twopence-halfpenny for half an ounce 
of Macabaw. Who has won these millions ? Is it Mr. Crock- 
ford, or Mr. Bond, or Mr. Salon-des-Etrangers ? (I do not call 
these latter gentlemen gamblers, for their speculation is a 
certainty) ; but who wins his money, and everybody else’s 
money who plays and loses ? Much money is staked in the 
absence of Mr. Crockford ; many notes are given without the 
interference of the Bonds ; there are hundreds of thousands of 
gamblers who are etrangers even to the Salon-des-Etrangers . 

No, my dear sir, it is not in the public gambling-houses that 
the money is lost ; it is not in them that your virtue is chiefly in 
danger. Better by half lose your income, your fortune, or your 
master’s money, in a decent public hell, than in the private so- 
ciety of such men as my friend Captain Rook ; but we are again 
and again digressing; the point is, is the Captain’s trade a 
good one, and does it yield tolerably good interest for outlay 
and capital ? 

To the latter question first: — at this very season of May, 
when the Rooks are very young, have you not, my dear friend, 
often tasted them in pies ? — they are then so tender that you 
cannot tell the difference between them and pigeons. So, in 
like manner, our Rook has been in his youth undistinguishable 
from a pigeon. He does as he has been done by : yea, he has 
been plucked as even now he plucks his friend Mr. Frederick 
Pigeon. Say that he began the world with ten thousand 
pounds : every maravedi of this is gone ; and may be considered 
as the capital which he has sacrificed to learn his trade. 
Having spent 10,000/., then, on an annuity of 650/., he must 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


56° 

look to a larger interest for his money — say fifteen hundred, 
two thousand, or three thousand pounds, decently to repay his 
risk and labor. Besides the money sunk in the first place, his 
profession requires continual annual outlays, as thus — 


Horses, carriages (including Epsom, Goodwood, Ascot, &c.) • . . ^500 o o 

Lodgings, servants, and board . . . 3 50 00 

Watering-places, and touring 300 o o 

Dinners to give 150 o o 

Pocket-money 150 o o 

Gloves, handkerchiefs, perfumery, and tobacco (very moderate) ... 150 o o 

Tailor’s bills G£ioo say, never paid) 000 


Total .... £ 1,600 o o 


I defy any man to carry on the profession in a decent way 
under the above sum : ten thousand sunk, and sixteen hundred 
annual expenses ; no, it is not a good profession : it is not good 
interest for one’s money : it is not a fair remuneration for a 
gentleman of birth, industry, and genius : and my friend Clap- 
trap, who growls about his pay, may bless his eyes that he was 
not born a gentleman and bred up to such an unprofitable 
calling as this. Considering his trouble, his outlay, his birth, 
and breeding, the Captain is most wickedly and basely rewarded. 
And when he is obliged to retreat, when his hand trembles, his 
credit is fallen, his bills laughed at by every money-lender in 
Europe, his tailors rampant and inexorable — in fact, when the 
coup of life will sauter for him no more — who will help the play- 
worn veteran ? As Mitchel sings after Aristophanes — 

“ In glory he was seen, when his years as yet were green ; 

But now when his dotage is on him, 

God help him ; — for no eye of those who pass him by, 

Throws a look of compassion upon him.” 


Who indeed will help him ? — not his family, for he has bled his 
father, his uncle, his old grandmother ; he has had slices out of 
his sisters’ portions, and quarrelled with his brothers-in-law ; 
the old people are dead ; the young ones hate him, and will 
give him nothing. Who will help him ? — not his friends ; in 
the first place, my dear sir, a man’s friends very seldom do : in 
the second place, it is Captain Rook’s business not to keep, but 
to give up his friends. His acquaintances do not last more 
than a year ; the time, namely, during which he is employed in 
plucking them ; then they part. Pigeon has not a single 
feather left to his tail, and how should he help Rook, whom, 
au rcste, he has learned to detest most cordially, and has found 
out to be a rascal ? When Rook’s ill day comes, it is simply 
because he has no more friends ; he has exhausted them all, 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


56l 

plucked every one as clean as the palm of your hand. And to 
arrive at this conclusion, Rook has been spending sixteen hun- 
dred a year, and the prime of his life, and has moreover sunk 
ten thousand pounds ! Is this a proper reward for a gentle- 
man ? I say it is a sin and a shame that an English gentleman 
should be allowed thus to drop down the stream without a 
single hand to help him. 

The moral of the above remarks I take to be this : that 
blacklegging is as bad a trade as can be ; and so let parents 
and guardians look to it, and not apprentice their children to 
such a villanous, scurvy way of living. 

It must be confessed, however, that there are some individ- 
uals who have for the profession such a natural genius, that no 
entreaties or example of parents will keep them from it, and no 
restraint or occupation occasioned by another calling. They do 
what Christians do not do; they leave all to follow their master 
the Devil ; they cut friends, families, and good, profitable trades 
to put up with this one, that is both unthrifty and unprofitable. 
They are in regiments : ugly whispers about certain midnight 
games at blind-hookey, and a few odd bargains in horseflesh are 
borne abroad, and Cornet Rook receives the gentlest hint in 
the world that he had better sell out. They are in counting- 
houses, with a promise of partnership, for which papa is to lay 
down a handsome premium ; but the firm of Hobbs, Bobbs and 
Higgory can never admit a young gentleman who is a notorious 
gambler, is much oftener at the races than at his desk, and has 
bills daily falling due at his private banker’s. The father, that 
excellent old man, Sam Rook, so well known on ’Change in the 
war-time, discovers, at the end of five years, that his son has 
spent rather more than the four thousand pounds intended for 
his partnership, and cannot, in common justice to his other 
thirteen children, give him a shilling more. A pretty pass for 
flash young Tom Rook, with four horses in stable, a protempo- 
raneous Mrs. Rook, very likely, in an establishment near the 
Regent’s Park, and a bill for three hundred and seventy-five 
pounds coming due on the fifth of next month. 

Sometimes young Rook is destined for the bar : and I am 
glad to introduce one of these gentlemen and his history to the 
notice of the reader. He was the son of an amiable gentle- 
man, the Reverend Athanasius Rook, who took high honors at 
Cambridge in the year 1 : was a fellow of Trinity in the year 2 . 
and so continued a fellow and a tutor of the College until a 
living fell vacant, on which he seized. It was only two hun- 
dred and fifty pounds a year ; but the fact is, Athanasius was 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


562 

in love. Miss Gregory, a pretty, demure, simple governess at 
Miss Mickle’s establishment for young ladies in Cambridge 
(where the reverend gentleman used often of late to take his 
tea), had caught the eye of the honest college tutor : and in 
Trinity walks, and up and down the Trumpington Road, he 
walked with her (and another young lady of course), talked 
with her, and told his love. 

Miss Gregory had not a rap, as might be imagined ; but she 
loved Athanasius with her whole soul and strength, and was 
the most orderly, cheerful, tender, smiling, bustling little wife that 
ever a country parson was blest withal. Athanasius took a couple 
of pupils at a couple of hundred guineas each, and so made 
out a snug income ; ay, and laid by for a rainy day — a little 
portion for Harriet, when she should grow up and marry, and 
a help for Tom at college and at the bar. For you must know 
there were two little Rooks now growing in the rookery ; and 
very happy were father and mother, I can tell you, to put meat 
down their tender little throats. Oh, if ever a man was good 
and happy, it was Athanasius ; if ever a woman was happy and 
good, it was his wife : not the whole parish, not the whole 
county, not the whole kingdom, could produce such a snug rec- 
tory, or such a pleasant menage. 

Athanasius’s fame as a scholar, too, was great ; and as his 
charges were very high, and as he received but two pupils, 
there was, of course, much anxiety among wealthy parents to 
place their children under his care. Future squires, bankers, 
yea, lords and dukes, came to profit by his instructions, and 
were led by him gracefully over the “ Asses’ bridge ” into the 
sublime regions of mathematics, or through the syntax into the 
pleasant paths of classic lore. 

In the midst of these companions, Tom Rook grew up ; 
more fondled and petted, of course, than they ; cleverer than 
they ; as handsome, dashing, well-instructed a lad for his years 
as ever went to college to be a senior wrangler, and went down 
without any such honor. 

Fancy, then, our young gentleman installed at college, 
whither his father has taken him, and with fond veteran recollec- 
tions has surveyed hall and grass-plots, and the old porter, and 
the old fountain, and the old rooms in which he used to live. 
Fancy the sobs of good little Mrs. Rook, as she parted with 
her boy ; and the tears of sweet pale Harriet, as she clung 
round his neck, and brought him (in a silver paper, slobbered 
with many tears) a little crimson silk purse (with two guineas 
of her own in it, poor thing !) Fancy all this, and fancy young 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


5*3 

Tom, sorry too, but yet restless and glad, panting for the new 
life opening upon him ; the freedom, the joy of the manly 
struggle for fame, which he vows he will win. Tom Rook, in 
other words, is installed at College, attends lectures, reads at 
home, goes to chapel, uses wine-parties moderately, and bids 
fair to be one of the topmost men of his year. 

Tom goes down for the Christmas vacation. (What a man 
he is grown, and how his sister and mother quarrel which shall 
walk with him down the village ; and what stories the old gentle- 
man lugs out with his old port, and how he quotes ^Eschylus, 
to be sure !) The pupils are away too, and the three have Tom 
in quiet. Alas ! I fear the place has grown a little too quiet 
for Tom : however, he reads very stoutly of mornings ; and 
sister Harriet peeps with a great deal of wonder into huge 
books of scribbling-paper, containing many strange diagrams, 
and complicated arrangements of x’s and y* s. 

May comes, and the college examinations : the delighted 
parent receives at breakfast, on the 10th of that month, two 
letters, as follows : — 

From the Rev. Solomon Snorter to the Rev. Athanasius Rook. 


“ Trinity, May 10. 

“ Dear Credo* — I wish you joy. Your lad is the best man of his year, and I hope in four 
more to see him at our table. In classics he is, my dear friend, facile princeps ; in mathe- 
matics he was run hard Centre nous) by a lad of the name of Snick, a Westmoreland man and 
a sizer. We must keep up Thomas to his mathematics, and I have no doubt we shall make 
a fellow and a wrangler of him. 

<£ I send you his college bill, 105/. io.y. ; rather heavy, but this is the first term, and that 
you know is expensive : I shall be glad to give you a receipt for it. By the way, the young 
man is rather too fond of amusement, and lives with a very expensive set. Give him a 
lecture on this score. — Yours, 

il Sol. Snorter,” 


Next comes Mr. Tom Rook’s own letter : it is long, modest ; 
we only give the postscript : — 

“ P. S.— Dear Father, I forgot to say that, as I live in the very best set in the Uni- 
versity, (Lord Bagwig, the Duke’s eldest son you know, vows he will give me a living,) I 
have been led into one or two expenses which will frighten you : I lost ^30 to the honor- 
able Mr. Deuceace (a son of Lord Crabs) at Bagwig’s, the other day at dinner ; and owe 
^54 more for desserts and hiring horses, which I can’t send into Snorter’s bill-t Hiring 
horses is so deuced expensive ; next term I must have a nag of my own, that’s positive.” 

The Rev. Athanasius read the postscript with much less gusto 
than the letter : however, Tom has done his duty, and the old 

* This is most probably a joke on the Christian name of Mr. Rook. 

t It is, or was, the custom for young gentlemen at Cambridge to have unlimited credit 
With tradesmen, whom the college tutors paid, and then sent the bills to the parents of th§ 

young men. 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


564 

gentleman won’t baulk his pleasure ; so he sends him ioo/ n 
with a “ God bless you ! ” and mamma adds, in a postscript, that 
“ he must always keep well with his aristocratic friends, for he 
was made only for the best society.” 

A year or two passes on : Tom comes home for the vaca- 
tions ; but Tom has sadly changed ; he has grown haggard 
and pale. At second year’s examination (owing to an unlucky 
illness) Tom was not classed at all ; and Snick, the West- 
moreland man, has carried everything before him. Tom drinks 
more after dinner than his father likes; he is always riding 
about and dining in the neighborhood, and coming home, quite 
odd, his mother says — ilL-humored, unsteady on his feet, and 
husky in his talk. The Reverend Athanasius begins to grow 
very, very grave : they have high words, even the father and 
son ; and oh ! how Harriet and her mother tremble and listen 
at the study door when these disputes are going on ! 

The last. term of Tom’s undergraduateship arrives ; he is in 
ill-health, but he will make a mighty effort to retrieve himself 
for his degree ; and early in the cold winter’s morning — late, 
late at night — he toils over his books : and the end is that, a 
month before the examination, Thomas Rook, Esquire, has a 
brain fever, and Mrs. Rook, and Miss Rook, and the Reverend 
Athanasius Rook, are all lodging at the “ Hoop,” an inn in 
Cambridge town, and day and night round the couch of poor 
Tom. 

# * # # # 

O sin, woe, repentance ! O touching reconciliation and burst 
of fears on the part of son and father, when one morning at the 
parsonage, after Tom’s recovery, the old gentleman produces a 
bundle of receipts, and says, with a broken voice, ‘‘There, boy, 
don’t be vexed about your debts. Boys will be boys, I know, 
and I have paid all demands.” Everybody cries in the house 
at this news ; the mother and daughter most profusely, even 
Mrs. Stokes the old housekeeper, who shakes master’s hand, 
and actually kisses Mr. Tom. 

Well, Tom begins to read a little for his fellowship, but in 
vain; he is beaten by Mr. Snick, the Westmoreland man. He 
has no hopes of a living; Lord Bagwig’s promises were all 
moonshine. Tom must go to the bar ; and his father, who has 
long left off taking pupils, must take them again, to support 
his son in London. 

Why tell you what happens when there ? Tom lives at the 
west end of the town, and never goes near the Temple : Tom 
goes to Ascot and Epsom along with his great friends ; Tom 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


5*5 

has a long bill with Mr 0 Rymell, another long bill with Mr. 
Nugee ; he gets into the hands of the Jews — and his father 
rushes up to London on the outside of the coach to find Tom 
in a sponging-house in Cursitor Street — the nearest approach 
he has made to the Temple during his three years’ residence in 
London. 

I don’t like to tell you the rest of the history. The Rev- 
erend Athanasius was not immortal, and he died a year after 
his visit to the sponging-house, leaving his son exactly one 
farthing, and his wife one hundred pounds a year, with re- 
mainder to his daughter. But, heaven bless you ! the poor 
things would never allow Tom to want while they had plenty, 
and they sold out and sold out the three thousand pounds, 
until, at the end of three years, there did not remain one single 
stiver of them ; and now Miss Harriet is a governess, with sixty 
pounds a year, supporting her mother, who lives upon fifty. 

As for Tom, he is a regular leg now — leading the life already 
described. When I met him last it was at Baden, where he 
was on a professional tour, with a carriage, a courier, a valet, a 
confederate, and a case of pistols. He has been in five duels, 
he has killed a man who spoke lightly about his honor ; and at 
French or English hazard, at billiards, at whist, at loo, dcartd, 
blind-hookey, drawing straws, or beggar-my-neighbor, he will 
cheat you — cheat you for a hundred pounds or for a guinea, 
and murder you afterwards if you like. 

Abroad, our friend takes military rank, and calls himself 
Captain Rook ; when asked of what service, he says he was 
with Don Carlos or Queen Christina ; and certain it is that he 
was absent for a couple of years nobody knows where ; he may 
have been with General Evans, or he may have been at the 
Sainte Pelagie in Paris, as some people vow he was. 

We must wind up this paper with some remarks concerning 
poor little Pigeon. Vanity has been little Pigeon’s failing 
through life. He is a linendraper’s son, and has been left with 
money : and the silly fashionable works that he has read, and 
the silly female relatives that he has — (n.b. All young men 
with money have silly, flattering she-relatives) — and the silly 
trips that he has made to watering-places, where he has scraped 
acquaintance with the Honorable Tom Mountcoffeehouse, 
Lord Ballyhooly, the celebrated German Prince, Sweller Mob- 
skau, and their like (all Captain Rooks in their way), have been 
the ruin of him. 

I have not the slightest pity in the world for little Pigeon. 
Look at him ! See in what absurd finery the little prig is 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


566 

dressed. Wine makes his poor little head ache, but he will 
drink because it is manly. In mortal fears he puts himself be- 
hind a curvetting camelopard of a cab-horse ; or perched on the 
top of a prancing dromedary, is borne through Rotten Row, 
when he would give the world to be on his own sofa, or with 
his own mamma and sisters, over a quiet pool of commerce and 
a cup of tea. How riding does scarify his poor little legs, and 
shake his poor little sides ! Smoking, how it does turn his 
little stomach inside out ; and yet smoke he will : Sweller 
Mobskau smokes ; Mountcoffeehouse don’t mind a cigar ; and as 
for Ballyhooly, he will puff you a dozen in a day, and says very 
truly that Pontet won’t supply him with near such good ones as 
he sells Pigeon. The fact is, that Pontet vowed seven years 
ago not to give his lordship a sixpence more credit ; and so 
the good-natured nobleman always helps himself out of Pigeon’s 
box. 

On the shoulders of these aristocratic individuals, Mr. 
Pigeon is carried into certain clubs, or perhaps we should say 
he walks into them by the aid of these “ legs.” But they keep 
him always to themselves. Captain Rooks must rob in com- 
panies ; but of course, the greater the profits, the fewer the 
partners must be. Three are positively requisite, however, as 
every reader must know who has played a game at whist: num- 
ber one to be Pigeon’s partner, and curse his stars at losing, 
and propose higher play, and “ settle ” with number two ; num- 
ber three to transact business with Pigeon, and drive him down 
to the City to sell out. We have known an instance or two 
where, after a very good night’s work, number three has bolted 
with the winnings altogether, but the practice is dangerous ; 
not only disgraceful tp the profession, but it cuts up your own 
chance afterwards, as no one will act with you. There is only 
one occasion on which such a manoeuvre is allowable. Many 
are sick of the profession, and desirous to turn honest men : in 
this case, when you can get a good coup, five thousand say, 
bolt without scruple. One thing is clear, the other men must 
be mum, and you can live at Vienna comfortably on the interest 
of five thousand pounds. 

Well, then, in the society of these amiable confederates little 
Pigeon goes through that period of time which is necessary for 
the purpose of plucking him. To do this, you must not, in 
most cases, tug at the feathers so as to hurt him, else he may 
‘be frightened, and hop away to somebody else ; nor, generally 
speaking, will the feathers come out so easily at first as they 
will when he is used to it, and then they drop in handfuls. Noi 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


5<$7 

need you have the least scruple in so causing the little creature 
to moult artificially : if you don’t, somebody else will : a Pigeon 
goes into the world fated, as- Chateaubriand says — 

“ Pigeon, il va subir le sort de tout pigeon. 

He must be plucked, it is the purpose for which nature has 
formed him : if you, Captain Rook, do not perform the opera- 
tion on a green table lighted by two wax-candles, and with two 
packs of cards to operate with, some other Rook will : are 
there not railroads, and Spanish bonds, and bituminous com- 
panies, and Cornish tin mines, and old dowagers with daughters 
to marry ? If you leave him, Rook of Birchin Lane will have 
him as sure as fate : if Rook of Birchin Lane don’t hit him, 
Rook of the Stock Exchange will blaze away both barrels at 
him, which if the poor trembling flutterer escape, he will fly 
over and drop into the rookery, where dear old swindling Lady 
Rook and her daughters will find him and nestle him in their 
bosoms, and in that soft place pluck him until he turns out as 
naked as a cannon-ball. 

Be not thou scrupulous, O Captain ! Seize on Pigeon ; pluck 
him gently but boldly ; but, above all, never let him go. If he 
is a stout cautious bird, of course you must be more cautious ; 
if he is excessively silly and scared, perhaps the best way is just 
to take him round the neck at once, and strip the whole stock 
of plumage from his back. 

The feathers of the human pigeon being thus violently ab- 
stracted from him, no others supply their place ; and yet I do 
not pity him. He is now only undergoing the destiny of pigeons, 
and is, I do believe, as happy in his plucked as in his feathered 
state. He cannot purse out his breast, and bury his head, and 
fan his tail, and strut in the sun as if he were a turkey-cock. 
Under all those fine airs and feathers, he was but what he is 
now, a poor little meek, silly, cowardly bird, and his state of 
pride is not a whit more natural to him than his fallen con- 
dition. He soon grows used to it. He is too great a coward 
to despair ; much too mean to be frightened because he must 
live by doing meanness. He is sure, if he cannot fly, to fall 
somehow or other on his little miserable legs ; on these he hops 
about, and manages to live somewhere in his own mean way. 
He has but a small stomach, and doesn’t mind what food he 
puts into it. He sponges on his relatives ; or else just before 
his utter ruin he marries and has nine children (and such a 
family always lives) ; he turns bully most likely, takes to drink- 
ing, and beats his wife, who supports him, or takes to drinking 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


56S 

too ; or he gets a little place, a very little place : you hear he 
has some tide-waitership, or is clerk to some new milk company, 
or is lurking about a newspaper. He dies, and a subscription 
is raised for the Widow Pigeon, and we look no more to find a 
likeness of him in his children, who are as a new race. Blessed 
are ye little ones, for ye are born in poverty, and may bear it, 
or surmount it and die rich. But woe to the pigeons of this 
earth, for they are born rich that they may die poor. 

The end of Captain Rook — for we must bring both him and 
the paper to an end — is not more agreeable, but somewhat more 
manly and majestic than the conclusion of Mr. Pigeon. If you 
walk over to the Queen’s Bench Prison, I would lay a wager 
that a dozen such are to be found there in a moment. They 
have a kind of Lucifer look with them, and stare at you with 
fierce, twinkling, crow-footed eyes ; or grin from under huge 
grizzly mustaches, as they walk up and down in their tattered 
brocades. What a dreadful activity is that of a madhouse, or 
a prison ! — a dreary flagged courtyard, a long dark room, and 
the inmates of it, like the inmates of the menagerie cages, 
ceaselessly walking up and down ! Mary Queen of Scots says 
very touchingly : — 

“ Pour mon mal estranger 
Je ne m’arreste en place ; 

Mais, j’en ay beau changer 
Si ma douleur n’ efface 1 ** 

Up and down, up and down — the inward woe seems to spur 
the body onwards ; and I think in both madhouse and prison 
you will find plenty of specimens of our Captain Rook. It is 
fine to mark him under the pressure of this woe, and see how 
fierce he looks when stirred up by the long pole of memory. 
In these asylums the Rooks end their lives ; or, more happy, 
they die miserably in a miserable provincial town abroad, and 
for the benefit of coming Rooks they commonly die early ; you 
as seldom hear of an old Rook (practising his trade) as of a 
rich one. It is a short-lived trade ; not merry, for the gains 
are most precarious, and perpetual doubt and dread are not 
pleasant accompaniments of a profession : — not agreeable 
either, for though Captain Rook does not mind being a scoun- 
drel, no man likes to be considered as such, and as such, he 
knows very well, does the world consider Captain Rook ; not 
profitable, for the expenses of the trade swallow up all the 
profits of it, and in addition leave the bankrupt with certain 
habits that have become as nature to him, and which, to live, 
he must gratify. I know no more miserable wretch than our 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


569 

Rook in his autumn days, at dismal Calais or Boulogne, or at 
the Bench yonder, with a whole load of diseases and wants, 
that have come to him in the course of his profession ; the 
diseases and wants of sensuality, always pampered, and now 
agonizing for lack of its unnatural food ; the mind, which must 
think now, and has only bitter recollections, mortified ambi- 
tions, and unavailing scoundrelisms to con over! Oh, Captain 
Rook! what nice “chums ” do you take with you into prison; 
what pleasant companions of exile follow you over the fines, 
patrice , or attend, the only watchers, round your miserable 
death-bed ! 

My son, be not a Pigeon in thy dealings with the world : — 
but it is better to be a Pigeon than a Rook. 


THE FASHIONABLE AUTHORESS . 

Paying a visit the other day to my friend Timson, who, I 
need not tell the public, is editor of that famous evening paper, 
the * * * * (and let it be said that there is no more profitable 
acquaintance than a gentleman in Timson’s situation, in whose 
office, at three o’clock daily, you are sure to find new books, 
lunch, magazines, and innumerable tickets for concerts and 
plays) : going, I say, into Timson’s office, I saw on the table 
an immense paper cone or funnel, containing a bouquet of such 
a size, that it might be called a bosquet, wherein all sorts of 
rare geraniums, luscious magnolias, stately dahlias, and other 
floral produce were gathered together — a regular flower-stack. 

Timson was for a brief space invisible, and I was left alone 
in the room with the odors of this tremendous bow-pot, which 
filled the whole of the inky, smutty, dingy apartment with an 
agreeable incense. “ O rus ! quando te aspiciam ? ” exclaimed 
I, out of the Latin grammar, for imagination had carried me 
away to the country, and I was about to make another excellent 
and useful quotation (from the 14th book of the Iliad, Madam), 
concerning “ ruddy lotuses, and crocuses, and hyacinths,” when 
all of a sudden Timson appeared. His head and shoulders 
had, in fact, been engulfed in the flowers, among which he 
might be compared to any Cupid, butterfly, or bee. His little 
face was screwed up into such an expression of comical delight 


57 ° 


CHARACTER SKETCHES . 


and triumph, that a Methodist parson would have laughed at 
it in the midst of a funeral sermon. 

“ What are you giggling at ? ” said Mr. Timson, assuming 
a high, aristocratic air. 

“ Has the goddess Flora made you a present of that bower, 
wrapped up in white paper ; or did it come by the vulgar hands 
of yonder gorgeous footman, at whom all the little printer’s 
devils are staring in the passage? ” 

“ Stuff ! ” said Timson, picking to pieces some rare exotic, 
worth at the very least fifteenpence ; “ a friend, who knows 
that Mrs. Timson and I are fond of these things, has sent us a 
nosegay, that’s all.” 

I saw how it was. “Augustus Timson,” exclaimed I, sternly 
“ the Pimlicoes have been with you ; if that footman did not 
wear the Pimlico plush, ring the bell and order me out : if that 
three-cornered billet lying in your snuff-box has not the Pimlico 
seal to it, never ask me to dinner again.” 

“ Well, if it does” says Mr. Timson, who flushed as red as a 
peony, “ what is the harm ? Lady Fanny Flummery may send 
flowers to her friends, I suppose ? The conservatories at Pim- 
lico House are famous all the world over, and the Countess 
promised me a nosegay the very last time I dined there.” 

“ Was that the day when she gave you a box of bonbons foj 
your darling little Ferdinand ? ” 

“No, another day.” 

“ Or the day when she promised you her carriage for Epsom 
Races ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Or the day when she hoped that her Lucy and your Bar- 
bara-Jane might be acquainted, and sent to the latter from the 
former a new French doll and tea-things ? ” 

“ Fiddlestick ! ” roared out Augustus Timson, Esquire : 
“ I wish you wouldn’t come bothering here. I tell you that 
Lady Pimlico is my friend — my friend, mark you, and I will 
allow no man to abuse her in my presence : I say again no 
man;” wherewith Mr. Timson plunged both his hands vio- 
lently into his breeches-pockets, looked me in the face sternly, 
and began jingling his keys and shillings about. 

At this juncture (it being about half-past three o’clock in the 
afternoon), a one-horse chaise drove up to the * * * * office 
(Timson lives at Clapham, and comes in and out in this machine) 
— a one-horse chaise drove up ; and amidst a scuffling and 
crying of small voices, good-humored Mrs. Timson bounced 
into the room. 


CHARACTER SKETCHES . 


57 * 

“ Here we are, deary,” said she : “ we’ll walk to the Mery- 
weathers ; and I’ve told Sam to be in Charles Street at twelve 
with the chaise : it wouldn’t do, you know, to come out of the 
Pimlico box and have the people cry, 4 Mrs. Timson’s carriage ! ’ 
for old Sam and the chaise.” 

Timson, to this loving and voluble address of his lady, gave 
a peevish, puzzled look towards the stranger, as much as to 
say, “ He's here.” 

“ La, Mr. Smith ! and how do you do ? — So rude — I didn’t 
see you : but the fact is, we are all in such a bustle ! Augustus 
has got Lady Pimlico’s box for the Puruani to-night, and I 
vowed I’d take the children.” 

Those young persons were evidently from their costume 
prepared for some extraordinary festival. Miss Barbara-Jane, 
a young lady of six years old, in a pretty pink slip and white 
muslin, her dear little poll bristling over with papers, to be re- 
moved previous to the play ; while Master Ferdinand had a 
pair of nankeens (I can recollect Timson in them in the year 
1825 — a great buck), and white silk stockings, which belonged 
to his mamma. His frill was very large and very clean, and 
he was fumbling perpetually at a pair of white kid gloves, 
which his mamma forbade him to assume before the opera. 

And “ Look here ! ” and “ Oh, precious ! ” and “ Oh, 
my ! ” were uttered by these worthy people as they severally 
beheld the vast bouquet, into which Mrs. Timson’s head 
flounced, just as her husband’s had done before. 

“ I must have a green-house at the Snuggery, that’s posi- 
tive, Timson, for I’m passionately fond of flowers — and how 
kind of Lady Fanny ! Do you know her ladyship, Mr. 
Smith ? ” 

“ Indeed, Madam, I don’t remember having ever spoken to 
a lord or a lady in my life.” 

Timson smiled in a supercilious way. Mrs. Timson ex- 
claimed, “ La, how odd ! Augustus knows ever so many. 
Let’s see, there’s the Countess of Pimlico and Lady Fanny 
Flummery ; Lord Doldrum (Timson touched up his travels, 
you know) ; Lord Gasterton, Lord Guttlebury’s eldest son ; 
Lady Pawpaw (they say she ought not to be visited, though) ; 
Baron Strum — Strom — Strumpf ” 

What the baron’s name was I have never been able to learn , 
for here Timson burst out with a “ Hold your tongue, Bessy ! ” 
which stopped honest Mrs. Timson’s harmless prattle alto- 
gether, and obliged that worthy woman to say meekly, “ Well, 
Gus, I did not think there was any harm in mentioning your 


572 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


acquaintance.” Good soul ! it was only because she took pride 
in her Timson that she loved to enumerate the great names of 
the persons who did him honor. My friend the editor was, in 
fact, in a cruel position, looking foolish before his old acquain- 
tance, stricken in that unfortunate sore point in his honest, 
good-humored character. The man adored the aristocracy, 
and had that wonderful respect for a lord which, perhaps the 
observant reader may have remarked, especially characterizes 
men of Timson’s way of thinking. 

In old days at the club (we held it in a small public-house 
near the Coburg Theatre, some of us having free admissions 
to that place of amusement, and some of us living for conve- 
nience in the immediate neighborhood of one of his Majesty’s 
prisons in that quarter) — in old days, I say, at our spouting and 
toasted-cheese club, called “ The Forum,” Timson was called 
Brutus Timson, and not Augustus, in consequence of the fero- 
cious republicanism which characterized him, and his utter scorn 
and hatred of a bloated, do-nothing aristocracy. His letters in 
The Weekly Sentinel , signed “ Lictor,” must be remembered by 
all our readers : he advocated the repeal of the corn laws, the 
burning of machines, the rights of labor, &c., &c., wrote some 
pretty defences of Robespierre, and used seriously to avow, 
when at all in liquor, that in consequence of those “ Lictor ” 
letters, Lord Castlereagh had tried to have him murdered, and 
thrown over Blackfriars Bridge. 

By what means Augustus Timson rose to his present ex- 
alted position it is needless here to state ; suffice it, that in 
two years he was completely bound over neck-and-heels to the 
bloodthirsty aristocrats, hereditary tyrants, &c. One evening 
he was asked to dine with a secretary of the Treasury (the **** 
is Ministerial, and has been so these forty-nine years) ; at the 
house of that secretary of the Treasury he met a lord’s son : 
walking with Mrs. Timson in the Park next Sunday, that lord’s 
son saluted him. Timson was from that moment a slave, had 
his coats made at the west end, cut his wife’s relations (they are 
dealers in marine-stores, and live at Wapping), and had his 
name put down at two Clubs. 

Who was the lord’s son ? Lord Pimlico’s son, to be sure, 
the Honorable Frederick Flummery, who married Lady Fanny 
Foxy, daughter of Pitt Castlereagh, second Earl of Reynard, 
Kilbrush Castle, County Kildare. The earl had been ambas- 
sador in ’14 : Mr. Flummery, his attachd : he was twenty-one at 
that time, with the sweetest tuft on his chin in the world. Lady 
Fanny was only four and-twenty, just jilted by Prince Scoron- 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


573 

concolo, the horrid man who had married Miss Solomonson 
with a plum. Fanny had nothing — Frederick had about seven 
thousand pounds less. What better could the young things do 
than marry ? Marry they did, and in the most delicious se- 
cresy. Old Reynard was charmed to have an opportunity of 
breaking with one of his daughters forever, and only longed 
for an occasion never to forgive the other nine. 

A wit of the Prince’s time, who inherited and transmitted 
to his children a vast fortune in genius, was cautioned on his 
marriage to be very economical. “ Economical ! ” said he ; 
“ my wife has nothing, and I have nothing : I suppose a man 
can’t live under that!” Our interesting pair, by judiciously 
employing the same capital, managed, year after year, to live 
very comfortably, until, at last, they were received into Pimlico 
House by the dowager (who has it for her life), where they live 
very magnificently. Lady Fanny gives the most magnificent 
entertainment in London, has the most magnificent equipage, 
and a very fine husband ; who has his equipage as fine as her 
ladyship’s ; his seat in the omnibus, while her ladyship is in the 
second tier. They say he plays a good deal — ay, and pays, too, 
when he loses. 

And how, pr’ythee ? Her ladyship is a Fashionable Au- 
thoress. She has been at this game for fifteen years ; during 
which period she has published forty-five novels, edited twenty- 
seven new magazines, and I don’t know how many annuals, 
besides publishing poems, plays, desultory thoughts, memoirs, 
recollections of travel, and pamphlets without number. Going 
one day to church, a lady, whom I knew by her Leghorn bonnet 
and red ribbons, ruche with poppies and marigolds, brass fer- 
roniere, great red hands, black silk gown, thick shoes, and 
black silk stockings ; a lady, whom I knew, I say, to be a de- 
votional cook, made a bob to me just as the psalm struck up, 
and offered me a share of her hymn-book. It was, — 

HEAVENLY CHORDS; 


A COLLECTION OF 

SELECTED, COMPOSED, AND EDITED, BY THE 

LADY FRANCES JULIANA FLUMMERY. 

— Being simply a collection of heavenly chords robbed from 
the lyres of Watts, Wesley, Brady and Tate, &c. ; and of sacred 
strains from the rare collection of Sternhold and Hopkins. 


574 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


Out of this, cook and I sang ; and it is amazing how much our 
fervor was increased by thinking that our devotions were di- 
rected by a lady whose name was in the Red Book. 

The thousands of pages that Lady Fanny Flummery has 
covered with ink exceed all belief. You must have remarked, 
Madam, in respect of this literary fecundity, that your amiable 
sex possesses vastly greater capabilities than we do ; and that 
while a man is painfully laboring over a letter of two sides, a 
lady will produce a dozen pages, crossed, dashed, and so 
beautifully neat and close, as to be wellnigh invisible. The 
readiest of ready pens has Lady Fanny ; her Pegasus gallops 
over hot-pressed satin so as to distance all gentlemen riders : 
like Camilla, it scours the plain — of Bath, and never seems 
punished or fatigued ; only it runs so fast that it often leaves 
all sense behind it ; and there it goes on, on, scribble, scribble, 
scribble, never flagging until it arrives at that fair winning-post 
on which is written “ finis,” or, “ the end ; ” and shows that 
the course, whether it be of novel, annual, poem, or what not, 
is complete. 

Now, the author of these pages doth not pretend to describe 
the inward thoughts, ways, and manners of being, of my Lady 
Fanny, having made before that humiliating confession, that 
lords and ladies are personally unknown to him ; so that all 
milliners, butchers’ ladies, dashing young clerks, and appren- 
tices, or other persons who are anxious to cultivate a knowledge 
of the aristocracy, had better skip over this article altogether. 
But he had heard it whispered, from pretty good authority, 
that the manners and customs of these men and women re- 
semble, in no inconsiderable degree, the habits and usages of 
other men and women, whose names are unrecorded by Debrett. 
Granting this, and that Lady Fanny is a woman pretty much 
like another, the philosophical reader will be content that we 
rather consider her ladyship in her public capacity, and examine 
her influence upon mankind in general. 

Her person, then, being thus put out of the way, her works, 
too, need not be very carefully sifted and criticised ; for what 
is the use of peering into a millstone, or making calculations 
about the figure o ? The woman has not, in fact, the slightest 
influence upon literature for good or for evil : there are a cer* 
tain number of fools whom she catches in her flimsy traps ; 
and why not ? They are made to be humbugged, or how should 
we live ? Lady Flummery writes everything ; that is, nothing. 
Her poetry is mere wind ; her novels, stark nought ; her philos- 
ophy, sheer vacancy : how should she do any better than she 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


575 


does ? how could she succeed if she did do any better ? If 
she did write well, she would not be Lady Flummery ; she 
would not be praised by Timson and the critics, because she 
would be an honest woman, and would not bribe them. Nay, 
she would probably be written down by Timson and Co., be- 
cause, being an honest woman, she utterly despised them and 
their craft. 

We have said what she writes for the most part. Individu- 
ally, she will throw off any number of novels that Messrs. Soap 
and Diddle will pay for ; and collectively, by the aid of self 
and friends, scores of “ Lyrics of Loveliness,” “ Beams of 
Beauty,” “ Pearls of Purity,” &c. Who does not recollect the 
success which her “ Pearls of the Peerage ” had? She is 
going to do the “ Beauties of the Baronetage ; ” then we shall 
have the “ Daughters of the Dustmen,” or some such other 
collection of portraits. Lady Flummery has around her a 
score of literary gentlemen, who are bound to her, body and 
soul : give them a dinner, a smile from an opera-box, a wave 
of the hand in Rotten Row, and they are hers, neck and heels. 
Vides, mi ftli, &c. See, my son, with what a very small dose of 
humbug men are to be bought. I know many of these indi- 
viduals : there is my friend M‘Lather, an immense, pudgy man : 
I saw him one day walking through Bond Street in company 
with an enormous ruby breast-pin. “ Mac ! ” shouted your 
humble servant, “ that is a Flummery ruby ; ” and Mac hated 
and cursed us ever after. Presently came little Fitch, the 
artist ; he was rigged out in an illuminated velvet waistcoat — 
Flummery again — “ There’s only one like it in town,” whispered 
Fitch to me confidentially, “ and Flummery has that.” To be 
sure, Fitch had given, in return, half a dozen of the prettiest 
drawings in the world. “ I wouldn’t charge for them, you know,” 
he says : “ for, hang it, Lady Flummery is my friend.” Oh, 
Fitch, Fitch! 

Fifty more instances could be adduced of her ladyship’s 
ways of bribery. She bribes the critics to praise her, and the 
writers to write for her ; and the public flocks to her as it will 
to any other tradesman who is properly puffed. Out comes 
the book ; as for its merits, we may allow, cheerfully, that 
Lady Flummery has no lack of that natural esprit which every 
woman possessess ; but here praise stops. For the style, she 
does not know her own language ; but, in revenge, has a smat- 
tering of half a dozen others. She interlards her works with 
rearful quotations from the French, fiddle-faddle extracts from 
Italian operas, German phrases fiercely mutilated, and a scrap 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


576 

or two of bad Spanish : and upon the strength of these murders 
she calls herself an authoress. To be sure there is no such 
word as authoress. If any young nobleman or gentleman of 
Eton College, when called upon to indite a copy of verses in 
praise of Sappho, or the Countess of Dash, or Lady Charlotte 
What-d’ye-call-’em, or the honorable Mrs. Somebody, should 
fondly imagine that he might apply to those fair creatures the 
title of auctrix — I pity that young nobleman’s or gentleman’s 
case. Doctor Wordsworth and assistants would swish that 
error out of him in a way that need not here be mentioned. 
Remember it henceforth, ye writeresses — there is no such a 
word as authoress. Anctor , Madam, is the word. “ Optima tu 
proprii nominis auctor eris which, of course, means that you 
are, by your proper name, an author, not an authoress : the 
line is in Ainsworth’s Dictionary, where anybody may see it. 

This point is settled then : there is no such word as 
authoress. But what of that ? Are authoresses to be bound 
by the rules of grammar ? The supposition is absurd. We 
don’t expect them to know their own language ; we prefer 
rather the little graceful pranks and liberties they take with it. 
When, for instance, a celebrated authoress, who wrote a 
Diaress, calls somebody the prototype of his own father, we 
feel an obligation to her ladyship ; the language feels an obli- 
gation ; it has a charm and a privilege with which it was never 
before endowed : and it is manifest, that if we can call ourselves 
antetypes of our grandmothers — can prophecy what we had for 
dinner yesterday, and so on, we get into a new range of thought, 
and discover sweet regions of fancy and poetry, of which the 
mind hath never even had a notion until now. 

It may be then considered as certain that an authoress ought 
not to know her own tongue. Literature and politics have this 
privilege in common, that any ignoramus may excel in both. 
No apprenticeship is required, that is certain ; and if any gen* 
tleman doubts, let us refer him to the popular works of the 
present day, where, if he find a particle of scholarship, or any 
acquaintance with any books in any language, or if he be dis- 
gusted by any absurd, stiff, old-fashioned notions of gram- 
matical propriety, we are ready to qualify our assertion. A 
friend of ours came to us the other day in great trouble. His 
dear little boy, who had been for some months attachd to the 
stables of Mr. Tilbury’s establishment, took a fancy to the 
corduroy breeches of some other gentleman employed in the 
same emporium — appropriated them, and afterwards disposed 
pf them for a trifling sum to a relation — I believe his uncle. 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


577 


For this harmless freak, poor Sam was absolutely seized, tried 
at Clerkenwell Sessions, and condemned to six months’ useless 
rotatory labor at the House of Correction. “ The poor fellow 
was bad enough before, sir,” said his father, confiding in our 
philanthropy ; “ he picked up such a deal of slang among the 
stable-boys : but if you could hear him since he came from the 
mill ! he knocks you down with it, sir, I am afraid, sir, of his 
becoming a regular prig : for though he’s a ’cute chap, can read 
and write, and is mighty smart and handy, yet no one will take 
him into service, on account of that business of the breeches ! ” 
“ What, sir! ” exclaimed we, amazed at the man’s simplicity ; 
“ such a son, and you don’t know what to do with him ! a ’cute 
fellow, who can write, who has been educated in a stable-yard, 
and has had six months’ polish in a university — I mean a 
prison — and you don’t know what to do with him ? Make a 
fashionable novelist of him, and be hanged to you ! ” And proud 
am I to say that that young man, every evening, after he comes 
home from his work (he has taken to street-sweeping in the 
day, and I don’t advise him to relinquish a certainty) — proud 
am I to say that he devotes every evening to literary composi- 
tion, and is coming out with a novel, in numbers, of the most 
fashionable kind. 

This little episode is only given for the sake of example ; 
par exemple , as our authoress would say, who delights in French 
of the very worst kind. The public likes only the extremes of 
society, and votes mediocrity vulgar. From the Author they 
will take nothing but Fleet Ditch ; from the Authoress, only 
the finest of rose-water. I have read so many of her ladyship’s, 
novels, that, egad ! now I don’t care for anything under a 
marquis. Why the deuce should we listen to the intrigues, the 
misfortunes, the virtues, and conversations of a couple of coun- 
tesses, for instance, when we can have duchesses for our 
money ? What’s a baronet ? pish ! pish ! that great coarse 
red fist in his scutcheon turns me sick ! What’s a baron ? a 
fellow with only one more ball than a pawnbroker ; and, upon 
my conscience, just as common. Dear Lady Flummery, in your 
next novel, give us no more of these low people ; nothing under 
strawberry leaves, for the mercy of heaven ! Suppose, now, 
you write us 

ALBERT ; 

OR, 

WHISPERINGS AT WINDSOR. 

BY THE LADY FRANCES FLUMMERY. 

37 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


578 

There is a subject — fashionable circles, curious revelations, ex* 
elusive excitement, &c. To be sure, you must here introduce 
a viscount, and that is sadly vulgar ; but we will pass him for 
the sake of the ministerial portefeuille , which is genteel. Then 
he might do “ Leopold ; or, the Bride of Neuilly ;” “ The Vic- 
tim of Wiirtemberg ; ” “Olga; or, the Autocrat’s Daughter” 
(a capital title); “Henri; or, Rome in the Nineteenth Cen- 
tury ; ” we can fancy the book, and a sweet paragraph about it 
in Timson’s paper. 

“ Henri, by Lady Frances Flummery. — Henri ! Who can 
he be ? a little bird whispers in our ear, that the gifted and tal- 
ented Sappho of our hemisphere has discovered some curious 
particulars in the life of a certain young chevalier, whose appear- 
ance at Rome has so frightened the court of the Tu-l-ries. 
Henri de B-rd — ux is of an age when the young god can shoot 
his darts into the bosom with fatal accuracy ; and if the Mar- 
chesini degli Spinachi (whose portrait our lovely authoress has 
sung with a kindred hand) be as beauteous as she is represented 
(and as all who have visited in the exclusive circles of the eter- 
nal city say she is), no wonder at her effect upon the Pr-nce. 
Verbum sap. We hear that a few copies are still remaining. 
The enterprising publishers, Messrs. Soap and Diddle, have 
announced, we see, several other works by the same accom- 
plished pen.” 

This paragraph makes its appearance, in small type, in the 
****, by the side, perhaps, of a disinterested recommendation 
of bears’-grease, or some remarks on the extraordinary cheap- 
ness of plate in Cornhill. Well, two or three days after, my 
dear Timson, who has been asked to dinner, writes in his own 
hand, and causes to be printed in the largest type, an article to 
the following effect : — 

“ HENRI. 

“by lady f. flummery. 

“ This is another of the graceful evergreens which the fair 
fingers of Lady Fanny Flummery are continually strewing upon 
our path. At once profound and caustic, truthful and passion- 
ate, we are at a loss whether most to admire the manly grand- 
eur of her ladyship’s mind, or the exquisite nymph-like delicacy 
of it. Strange power of fancy ! Sweet enchantress, that rules 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


579 


the mind at will : stirring up the utmost depths of it into pas- 
sion and storm, or wreathing and dimpling its calm surface with 
countless summer smiles. As a great Bard of old Time has 
expressed it, what do we not owe to woman ? 

“ What do we not owe her ? More love, more happiness, 
more calm of vexed spirit, more truthful aid, and pleasant 
counsel ; in joy, more delicate sympathy ; in sorrow, more kind 
companionship. We look into her cheery eyes, and, in those 
wells of love, care drowns ; we listen to her siren voice, and, in 
that balmy music, banished hope comes winging to the breast 
again.” 

This goes on for about three-quarters of a column : I don’t 
pretend to understand it ; but with flowers, angels, Words- 
worth’s poems, and the old dramatists, one can never be wrong, 
I think ; and though I have written the above paragraphs my- 
self, and don’t understand a word of them, I can’t, upon my 
conscience, help thinking that they are mighty pretty writing. 
After, then, this has gone on for about three-quarters of a col- 
umn (Timson does it in spare minutes, and fits it to any book 
that Lady Fanny brings out), he proceeds to particularize, 
thus : — 

“ The grinding excitement which thrills through every fibre of 
the soul as we peruse these passionate pages, is almost too pain- 
ful to bear. Nevertheless, one drains the draughts of poesy to 
the dregs, so deliciously intoxicating is its nature. We defy any 
man who begins these volumes to quit them ere he has perused 
each line. The plot may be briefly told as thus : — Henri, an 
exiled prince of Franconia (it is easy to understand the flimsy 
allegory), arrives at Rome and is presented to the sovereign 
Pontiff. At a feast, given in his honor at the Vatican, a dan- 
cing girl (the loveliest creation that ever issued from poet’s 
brain) is introduced, and exhibits some specimens of her art. 
The young prince is instantaneously smitten with the charms 
of the Saltatrice ; he breathes into her ear the accents of his 
love, and is listened to with favor. He has, however, a rival, 
and a powerful one. The Pope has already cast his eye upon 
the Apulian maid, and burns with lawless passion. One of the 
grandest scenes ever writ occurs between the rivals. The 
Pope offers to Castanetta every temptation ; he will even re- 
sign his crown and marry her : but she refuses. The prince 
can make no such offers ; he cannot wed her : * The blood of 
Borbone,’ he says, ‘ may not be thus misallied.’ He determines 
to avoid her. In despair, she throws herself off the Tarpeian 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


580 

rock ; and the Pope becomes a maniac. Such is an outline of 
this tragic tale. 

“Besides this fabulous and melancholy part of the narra- 
tive, which is unsurpassed, much is written in the gay and 
sparkling style for which our lovely author is unrivalled. The 
sketch of the Marchesina degli Spinachi and her lover, the 
Duca di Gammoni, is delicious ; and the intrigue between the 
beautiful Princess Kalbsbraten and Count Bouterbrod is ex- 
quisitely painted : everybody, of course, knows who these char- 
acters are. The discovery of the manner in which Kartoffeln, 
the Saxon envoy, poisons the princess’s dishes, is only a grace- 
ful and real repetition of a story which was agitated throughout 
all the diplomatic circles last year. Schinken, the Westpha- 
lian, must not be forgotten ; nor Olla, the Spanish Spy. How 
does Lady Fanny Flummery, poet as she is, possess a sense of 
the ridiculous and a ^ keenness of perception which would do 
honor to a Rabelais or a Rochefoucauld ? To those who ask 
this question, we have one reply, and that an example : — Not 
among women, ’tis true ; for till the Lady Fanny came among 
us, woman never soared so high. Not among women, indeed ! 
— but in comparing her to that great spirit for whom our ven- 
eration is highest and holiest, we offer no dishonor to his 
shrine : — in saying that he who wrote of Romeo and Desdemo?ia 
might have drawn Castanetta and Enrico, we utter but the 
truthful expressions of our hearts ; in asserting that so long as 
Shakspeare lives, so long will Flummery endure ; in declar- 
ing that he who rules in all hearts, and over all spirits and all 
climes, has found a congenial spirit, we do but justice to Lady 
Fanny — justice to him who sleeps by Avon ! ” 

With which we had better, perhaps, conclude. Our object 
has been, in descanting upon the Fashionable Authoress, to 
point out the influence which her writing possesses over society, 
rather than to criticize her life. The former is quite harmless ; 
and we don’t pretend to be curious about the latter. The 
woman herself is not so blamable : it is the silly people who 
cringe at her feet that do the mischief, and, gulled themselves, 
gull the most gullable of publics. Think you, O Timson, that 
her ladyship asks you for your beaux yeux or your wit ? Fool ! 
you do think so, or try and think so ; and yet you know she 
loves not you, but the **** newspaper. Think, little Fitch, in 
your fine waistcoat, how dearly you have paid for it ! Think, 
M‘Lather, how many smirks, and lies, and columns of good 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 58 1 

three-halfpence-a-line matter that big garnet pin has cost you ! 
the woman laughs at you, man ! you, who fancy that she is 
smitten with you — laughs at your absurd pretensions, your way 
of eating fish at dinner, your great hands, your eyes, your 
whiskers, your coat, and your strange north-country twang. 
Down with this Delilah ! Avaunt, O Circe ! giver of poison- 
ous feeds. To your natural haunts, ye gentlemen of the press ! 
if bachelors, frequent your taverns, and be content. Better is 
Sally the waiter, and the first cut of the joint, than a dinner of 
four courses, and humbug therewith. Ye who are married, go 
to your homes ; dine not with those persons who scorn your 
wives. Go not forth to parties, that ye may act Tom Fool fo* 
the amusement of my lord and my lady ; but play your natural 
follies among your natural friends. Do this for a few years, 
and the Fashionable Authoress is extinct. O Jove, what a 
prospect ! She, too, has retreated to her own natural calling, 
being as much out of place in a book as you, my dear M ‘Lather, 
in a drawing-room. Let milliners look up to her ; let Howell 
and James swear by her; let simpering dandies caper about her 
car ; let her write poetry if she likes, but only for the most ex- 
clusive circles ; let mantua-makers puff her — but not men : let 
such things be, and the Fashionable Authoress is no more ! 
Blessed, blessed thought ! No more fiddle-faddle novels ! no 
more namby-pamby poetry ! no more fribble “ Blossoms of 
Loveliness ! ” When will you arrive, O happy Golden Age ? 


THE ARTISTS. 

It is confidently stated that there was once a time when 
the quarter of Soho was thronged by the fashion of London. 
Many wide streets are there in the neighborhood, stretching 
cheerfully towards Middlesex Hospital in the north, bounded 
by Dean Street in the west, where the lords and ladies of Wil- 
liam’s time used to dwell, — till in Queen Anne’s time, Blooms- 
bury put Soho out of fashion, and Great Russell Street became 
the pink of the mode. 

Both these quarters of the town have submitted to the 
awful rule of nature, and are now to be seen undergoing the 
dire process of decay. Fashion has deserted Soho, and left 
her in her gaunt, lonely old age. The houses have a vast, 
dingy, mouldy, dowager look. No more beaux, in mighty peri- 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


58 * 

wigs, ride by in gilded clattering coaches ; no more lackeys 
accompany them, bearing torches, and shouting for precedence. 
A solitary policeman paces these solitary streets, — the only 
dandy in the neighborhood. You hear the milkman yelling 
his milk with a startling distinctness, and the clack of a ser- 
vant-girl’s pattens sets people a-staring from the windows. 

With Bloomsbury we have here nothing to do ; but as gen- 
teel stock-brokers inhabit the neighborhood of Regent’s Park, 
— as lawyers have taken possession of Russell Square, — so 
Artists have seized upon the desolate quarter of Soho. They 
are to be found in great numbers in Berners Street. Up to 
the present time, naturalists have never been able to account 
for this mystery of their residence. What has a painter to do 
with Middlesex Hospital ? He is to be found in Charlotte 
Street, Fitzroy Square. And why? Philosophy cannot tell, 
any more than why milk is found in a cocoa-nut. 

Look at Newman Street. Has earth, in any dismal corner 
of her great round face, a spot more desperately gloomy ? 
The windows are spotted with wafers, holding up ghastly bills, 
that tell you the house is “ To Let.” Nobody walks there — 
not even an old-clothes-man ; the first inhabited house has 
bars to the windows, and bears the name of “ Ahasuerus, offi- 
cer to the Sheriff of Middlesex ; ” and here, above all places, 
must painters take up their quarters, — day by day must these 
reckless people pass Ahasuerus’s treble gate. There was my 
poor friend, Tom Tickner (who did those sweet things for 
“ The Book of Beauty ”). Tom, who could not pay his washer- 
woman, lived opposite the bailiff’s ; and could see every miser- 
able debtor, or greasy Jew writ-bearer that went in or out of 
his door. The street begins with a bailiff’s, and ends with a 
hospital. I wonder how men live in it, and are decently cheer- 
ful, with this gloomy, doubled-barrelled moral pushed perpetu- 
ally into their faces. Here, however, they persist in living, no 
one knows why ; owls may still be found roosting in Netley 
Abbey, and a few Arabs are to be seen at the present minute 
in Palmyra. 

The ground floors of the houses where painters live are 
mostly make-believe shops, black empty warehouses, contain- 
ing fabulous goods. There is a sedan-chair opposite a house 
in Rathbone Place, that I have myself seen every day for forty- 
three years. The house has commonly a huge india-rubber- 
colored door, with a couple of glistening brass plates and bells. 
A portrait-painter lives on the first floor ; a great historical 
genius inhabits the second. Remark the first-floor’s middle 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


583 

drawing-room window ; it is four feet higher than its two com- 
panions, and has taken a fancy to peep into the second-floor 
front. So much for the outward appearance of their habita- 
tions, and for the quarters in which they commonly dwell. 
They seem to love solitude, and their mighty spirits rejoice in 
vastness and gloomy ruin. 

I don’t say a word here about those geniuses who frequent 
the thoroughfares of the town, and have picture-frames con* 
taining a little gallery of miniature peers, beauties, and general 
officers, in the Quadrant, the passages about St. Martin’s Lane, 
the Strand, and Cheapside. Lord Lyndhurst is to be seen in 
many of these gratis exhibitions — Lord Lyndhurst cribbed 
from Chalon ; Lady Peel from Sir Thomas ; Miss Croker from 
the same ; the Duke, from ditto ; an original officer in the 
Spanish Legion ; a colonel or so, of the Bunhill-Row Fenci- 
bles ; a lady on a yellow sofa, with four children in little caps 
and blue ribbons. We have all of us seen these pretty pic- 
tures, and are aware that our own features may be “ done in 
this style.” Then there is the man on the chain-pier at 
Brighton, who pares out your likeness in sticking-plaster ; 
there is Miss Croke, or Miss Runt, who gives lessons in 
Poonah-painting, japanning, or mezzotinting ; Miss Stump, 
who attends ladies’ schools with large chalk heads from Le 
Brun or the Cartoons ; Rubbery, who instructs young gentle- 
men’s establishments in pencil ; and Sepio, of the Water-Color 
Society, who paints before eight pupils daily, at a guinea an 
hour, keeping his own drawings for himself. 

All these persons, as the most indifferent reader must see, 
equally belong to the tribe of Artists (the last not more than 
the first), and in an article like this should be mentioned 
properly. But though this paper has been extended from eight 
pages to sixteen, not a volume would suffice to do justice to 
the biographies of the persons above mentioned. Think of 
the superb Sepio, in a light-blue satin cravat, and a light-brown 
coat, and yellow kids, tripping daintily from Grosvenor Square 
to Gloucester Place, a small sugar-loaf boy following, who 
carries his morocco portfolio. Sepio scents his handkerchief, 
curls his hair, and wears, on a great coarse fist a large emerald 
ring that one of his pupils gave him. He would not smoke a 
cigar for the world ; he is always to be found at the Opera ; 
and, gods ! how he grins, and waggles his head about, as Lady 
Flummery nods to him from her box, 

He goes to at least six great parties in the season. At the 
houses where he teaches, he has a faint hope that he is received 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


584 

as an equal, and propitiates scornful footmen by absurd dona 
tions of sovereigns. The rogue has plenty of them. He has a 
stock-broker, and a power of guinea-lessons stowed away in 
the Consols. There are a number of young ladies of genius in 
the aristocracy, who admire him hugely ; he begs you to con- 
tradict the report about him and Lady Smigsmag ; every now 
and then he gets a present of game from a marquis ; the City 
ladies die to have lessons of him ; he prances about the Park 
on a high-bred cock-tail, with lackered boots and enormous 
high heels ; and he has a mother and sisters somewhere — 
washerwomen, it is said, in Pimlico. 

How different is his fate to that of poor Rubbery, the 
school drawing-master ! Highgate, Homertcn, Putney, Hack- 
ney, Hornsey, Turnham Green, are his resorts ; he has a select 
seminary to attend at every one of these places ; and if, from 
all these nurseries of youth, he obtains a sufficient number of 
half-crowns to pay his week’s bills, what a happy man is he ! 

He lives most likely in a third floor in Howland Street, and 
has commonly five children, who have all a marvellous talent 
for drawing — all save one, perhaps, that is an idiot, which a 
poor sick mother is ever carefully tending. Sepio’s great aim 
and battle in life is to be considered one of the aristocracy ; 
honest Rubbery would fain be thought a gentleman, too ; but, 
indeed, he does not know whether he is so or not. Why be a 
gentleman ? — a gentleman Artist does not obtain the wages of 
a tailor ; Rubbery’s butcher looks down upon him with a royal 
scorn ; and his wife, poor gentle soul (a clergyman’s daughter, 
who married him in the firm belief that her John would be 
knighted, and make an immense fortune), — his wife, I say, has 
many fierce looks to suffer from Mrs. Butcher, and many meek 
excuses or prayers to proffer, when she cannot pay her bill, — 
or when, worst of all, she has humbly to beg for a little scrap 
of meat upon credit, against John’s coming home. He has 
five-and-twenty miles to walk that day, and must have some- 
thing nourishing when he comes in — he is killing himself, poor 
fellow, she knows he is : and Miss Crick has promised to pay 
him his quarter’s charge on the very next Saturday. “ Gentle- 
folks, indeed,” says Mrs. Butcher ; “ pretty gentlefolks these, 
as can’t pay for half a pound of steak ! ” Let us thank heaven 
that the Artist’s wife has her meat, however, — there is good in 
that shrill, fat, mottle-faced Mrs. Brisket, after all. 

Think of the labors of that poor Rubbery. He was up at 
four in the morning, and toiled till nine upon a huge damp icy 
lithographic stone ; on which he has drawn the “ Star of the 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 585 

Wave,” or the “ Queen of the Tourney,” or, “ She met at 
Almack’s,” for Lady Flummery’s last new song. This done, 
at half-past nine, he is to be seen striding across Kensington 
Gardens, to wait upon the before-named Miss Crick, at Lamont 
House. Transport yourself in imagination to the Misses 
Kittle’s seminary, Potzdam Villa, Upper Homerton, four miles 
from Shoreditch ; and at half-past two Professor Rubbery is to 
be seen swinging along towards the gate. Somebody is on the 
look-out for him; indeed it is his eldest daughter, Marianne, 
who has been pacing the shrubbery, and peering over the green 
railings this half hour past. She is with the Misses Kittle on 
the u mutual system,” a thousand times more despised than the 
butchers’ and the grocers’ daughters, who are educated on the 
same terms, and whose papas are warm men in Aldgate. 
Wednesday is the happiest day of Marianne’s week : and this 
the happiest hour of Wednesday. Behold ! Professor Rub- 
bery wipes his hot brows and kisses the poor thing, and they go 
in together out of the rain, and he tells her that the twins are 
well out of the measles, thank God ! and that Tom has just 
done the Antinous, in a way that must make him sure of the 
Academy prize, and that mother is better of her rheumatism 
now. He has brought her a letter, in large round hand, from 
Polly ; a famous soldier, drawn by little Frank ; and when, after 
his two hour$’ lesson, Rubbery is off again, our dear Marianne 
cons over the letter and picture a hundred times with soft 
tearful smiles, and stows them away in an old writing-desk, 
amidst a heap more of precious home relics, wretched trumpery 
scraps and baubles, that you and I, Madam, would sneer at ; 
but that in the poor child’s eyes (and, I think, in the eyes of 
One who knows how to value widows’ mites and humble sin- 
ners offerings) are better than bank-notes and Pitt diamonds. 
O kind heaven, that has given these treasures to the poor ! 
Many and many an hour does Marianne lie awake with full 
eyes, and yearn for that wretched old lodging in Howland 
Street, where mother and brothers lie sleeping ; and, gods ! 
what a fete it is, when twice or thrice in the year she comes 
home ! 

* * * * * 

I forget how many hundred millions of miles, for how many 
billions of centuries, how many thousands of decillions of angels fc 
peris, houris, demons, afreets, and the like, Mahomet travelled, 
lived, and counted, during the time that some water was falling 
from a bucket to the ground ; but have we not been wandering 
most egregiously away from Rubbery, during the minute in 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


586 

which his daughter is changing his shoes, and taking off his 
reeking mackintosh in the hall of Potzdam Villa ? She thinks 
him the finest artist that ever cut an H. B. ; that’s positive : 
and as a drawing-master, his merits are wonderful ; for at the 
Misses Kittle’s annual vacation festival, when the young ladies’ 
drawings are exhibited to their mammas and relatives (Rubbery 
attending in a clean shirt, with his wife’s large brooch stuck in 
it, and drinking negus along with the very best) ; — at the annual 
festival, I say, it will be found that the sixty-four drawings 
exhibited — “ Tintern Abbey,” “ Kenilworth Castle,” “ Horse — 
from Carl Vernet,” “ Head — from West,” or what not (say six- 
teen of each sort) — are the one exactly as good as the other ; 
so that, although Miss Slamcoe gets the prize, there is really 
no reason why Miss Timson, who is only four years old, should 
not have it : her design being accurately stroke for stroke, tree 
for tree, curl for curl, the same as Miss Slamcoe’s, who is 
eighteen. The fact is, that of these drawings, Rubbery, in the 
course of the year, has done every single stroke, although the 
girls and their parents are ready to take their affidavits (or, as 
I heard once a great female grammarian say, their affies davit) 
that the drawing-master has never been near the sketches. 
This is the way with them ; but mark ! — when young ladies 
come home, are settled in life, and mammas of families, — can 
they design so much as a horse, or a dog, or a “ moo-cow,” for 
little Jack who bawls out for them? Not they! Rubbery’s 
pupils have no more notion of drawing, any more than Sepio’s 
of painting, when that eminent artist is away. 

Between these two gentlemen, lie a whole class of teachers 
of drawing, who resemble them more or less. I am ashamed 
to say that Rubbery takes his pipe in the parlor of an hotel, of 
which the largest room is devoted to the convenience of poor 
people, amateurs of British gin : whilst Sepio trips down to the 
Club, and has a pint of the smallest claret : but of course the 
tastes of men vary ; and you find them simple or presuming, 
careless or prudent, natural and vulgar, or false and atrociously 
genteel, in all ranks and stations of life. 

As for the other persons mentioned at the beginning of this 
discourse, viz. : the cheap portrait-painter, the portrait-cutter in 
sticking-plaster, and Miss Croke, the teacher of mezzotint and 
Poonah-painting, — nothing need be said of them in this place, 
as we have to speak of matters more important. Only about 
Miss Croke, or about other professors of cheap art, let the 
reader most sedulously avoid them. Mezzotinto is a take-in, 
Poonah-painting a rank, villanous deception. So is “ Grecian 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


S 8 7 

art without brush or pencils.’’ These are only small mechanical 
contrivances, over which young ladies are made to lose time. 
And now, having disposed of these small skirmishers who hover 
round the great body of Artists, we are arrived in presence of 
the main force,* that we must begin to attack in form. In the 
“ partition of the earth,” as it has been described by Schiller, 
the reader will remember that the poet, finding himself at the 
end of the general scramble without a single morsel of plunder, 
applied passionately to Jove, who pitied the poor fellow’s con- 
dition, and complimented him with a seat in the Empyrean. 
“ The strong and the cunning,” says Jupiter, “ have seized upon 
the inheritance of the world, whilst thou wert star-gazing and 
rhyming : not one single acre remains wherewith I can endow 
thee*; but, in revenge, if thou art disposed to visit me in my 
own heaven, come when thou wilt, it is always open to thee.” 

The cunning and strong have scrambled and struggled more 
on our own little native spot of earth than in any other place 
on the world’s surface ; and the English poet (whether he handles 
a pen or a pencil) has little other refuge than that windy, 
unsubstantial one which Jove has vouchsafed to him. Such 
airy board and lodging is, however, distasteful to many ; who 
prefer, therefore, to give up their poetical calling, and, in a vul- 
gar beef-eating world, to feed upon and fight for vulgar beef. 

For such persons (among the class of painters), it may be 
asserted that portrait-painting was invented. It is the Artist’s 
compromise with heaven ; “ the light of common day,” in 
which, after a certain quantity of “ travel from the East,” the 
genius fades at last. Abbe Barthelemy (who sent Le Jeune 
Anacharsis travelling through Greece in the time of Plato, — 
travelling through ancient Greece in lace ruffles, red heels, and 
a pigtail), — Abbe Barthelemy, I say, declares that somebody 
was once standing against a wall in the sun, and that somebody 
else traced the outline of somebody’s shadow ; and so painting 
was “ invented.” Angelica Kauffmann has made a neat picture 
of this neat subject ; and very well worthy she was of handling 
it. Her painting might grow out of a wall and a piece of char- 
coal ; and honest Barthelemy might be satisfied that he had 
here traced the true origin of the art. What abase pedigree 
have these abominable Greek, French, and High-Dutch hea- 
thens invented for that which is divine ! — a wall, ye gods, to be 
represented as the father of that which came down radiant from 
you ! The man who invented such a blasphemy, ought to be 
impaled upon broken bottles, or shot off pitilessly by spring- 
guns, nailed to the bricks like a deal owl or a weasel, or tied 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


itt 

up — a kind of vulgar Prometheus — and baited forever by the 
house-dog. 

But let not our indignation carry us too far. Lack of genius 
in some, of bread in others, of patronage in a shopkeeping 
world, that thinks only of the useful, and is little inclined to 
study the sublime, has turned thousands of persons calling them- 
selves, and wishing to be, Artists, into so many common face- 
painters, who must look out for the “ kalon” in the fat features 
of a red-gilled Alderman, or, at best, in a pretty, simpering, 
white-necked beauty from “ Almack’s.” The dangerous charms 
of these latter, especially, have seduced away many painters ; 
and we often think that this very physical superiority which Eng- 
lish ladies possess, this tempting brilliancy of health and com- 
plexion, which belongs to them more than to any others, has 
operated upon our Artists as a serious disadvantage, and kept 
them from better things. The French call such beauty “ La 
bcautc du Diable ; and a devilish power it has truly ; before our 
Armidas and Helens how many Rinaldos and Parises have 
fallen, who are content to forget their glorious calling, and 
slumber away their energies in the laps of these soft tempters. 
O ye British enchantresses ! I never see a gilded annual-book, 
without likening it to a small island near Cape Pelorus, in Sicily, 
whither, by twanging of harps, singing of ravishing melodies, 
glancing of voluptuous eyes, and the most beautiful fashionable 
undress in the world, the naughty sirens lured the passing sea- 
man. Steer clear of them, ye Artists ! pull, pull for your lives, 
ye crews of Suffolk Street and the Water-Color gallery ! stop 
your ears, bury your eyes, tie yourself to the mast, and away with 
you from the gaudy, smiling “ Books of Beauty.” Land, and 
you are ruined ! Look well among the flowers on yonder beach 
— it is whitened with the bones of painters. 

For my part, I never have a model under seventy, and her 
with several shawls and a cloak on. By these means the imag- 
ination gets fair play, and the morals remain unendangered. 

Personalities are odious ; but let the British public look at 
pictures of the celebrated Mr. Shalloon — the moral British 
public — and say whether our grandchildren (or the grandchil- 
dren of the exalted personages whom Mr. Shalloon paints) will 
not have a queer idea of the manners of their grandmammas, 
as they are represented in the most beautiful, dexterous, cap- 
tivating water-color drawings that ever were ? Heavenly powers, 
how they simper and ogle ! with what gimcracks of lace, rib- 
bons, ferronRres, smelling-bottles, and what not, is every one 
of them overloaded ! What shoulders, what ringlets, what 


CHARACTER SKETCHES , 


5*9 

funny little pug-dogs do they most of them exhibit to us ! The 
days of Lancret and Watteau are lived over again, and the 
court ladies of the time of Queen Victoria look as moral as the 
immaculate countesses of the days of Louis Quinze. The last 
President of the Royal Academy * is answerable for many sins, 
and many imitators ; especially for that gay, simpering, meretri- 
cious look which he managed to give to every lady who sat to 
him for her portrait ; and I do not know a more curious con- 
trast than that which may be perceived by any one who will 
examine a collection of his portraits by the side of some by Sir 
Joshua Reynolds. They seem to have painted different races 
of people ; and when one hears very old gentlemen talking of 
the superior beauty that existed in their early days (as very old 
gentlemen, from Nestor downwards, have and will), one is in- 
clined to believe that there is some truth in what they say ; at 
least, that the men and women under George the Third were 
far superior to their descendants in the time of George the 
Fourth. Whither has it fled — that calm matronly grace, or 
beautiful virgin innocence, which belonged to the happy women 
who Sat to Sir Joshua ? Sir Thomas’s ladies are ogling out of 
their gilt frames, and asking us for admiration ; Sir Joshua’s sit 
quiet, in maiden meditation fancy free, not anxious for applause, 
but sure to command it ; a thousand times more lovely in their 
sedate serenity than Sir Thomas’s ladies in their smiles, and 
their satin ball-dresses. 

But this is not the general notion, and the ladies prefer the 
manner of the modern Artist. Of course, such being the case, 
the painters must follow the fashion. One could point out 
half a dozen Artists who, at Sir Thomas’s death, have seized 
upon a shred of his somewhat tawdry mantle. There is Car- 
mine, for instance, a man of no small repute, who will stand as 
the representative of his class. 

Carmine has had the usual education of a painter in this 
country ; he can read and write — that is, has spent years draw- 
ing the figure — and has made his foreign tour. It may be 
that he had original talent once, but he has learned to forget 
this, as the great bar to his success ; and must imitate, in order 
to live. He is among Artists what a dentist is among surgeons 
a man who is employed to decorate the human head, and who is 
paid enormously for so doing. You know one of Carmine’s 
beauties at any exhibition, and see the process by which they 
are manufactured. He lengthens the noses, widens the fore- 
heads, opens the eyes, and gives them the proper languishing 

* Sir Thomas Lawrence. 


59 ° 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


leer ; diminishes the mouth, and infallibly tips the end of it with 
a pretty smile of his favorite color. He is a personable, white- 
handed, bald-headed, middle-aged man now, with that grave 
blandness of look which one sees in so many prosperous 
empty-headed people. He has a collection of little stories and 
court gossip about Lady This, and “ my particular friend, Lord 
So-and-so,” which he lets off in succession to every sitter ; in- 
deed, a most bland, irreproachable, gentlemanlike man. He 
gives most patronizing advice to young Artists, and makes a 
point of praising all — not certainly too much, but in a gentle- 
manlike, indifferent, simpering, way. This should be the 
maxim with prosperous persons, who have had to make their 
way, and wish to keep what they have made. They praise 
everybody, and are called good-natured, benevolent men. 
Surely no benevolence is so easy ; it simply consists in lying, 
and smiling, and wishing everybody well. You will get to do 
so quite naturally at last, and at no expense of truth. At first, 
when a man has feelings of his own — feelings of love or of 
anger — this perpetual grin and good-humor is hard to maintain. 
I used to imagine, when I first knew Carmine, that there were 
some particular springs in his wig (that glossy, oily, curl crop 
of chestnut hair) that pulled up his features into a smile, and 
kept the muscles so fixed for the day. I don’t think so now, 
and should say he grinned, even when he was asleep and his 
teeth were out ; the smile does not lie in the manufacture of the 
wig, but in the construction of the brain. Claude Carmine has 
the organ of don’ t-care-a-damn-ativeness wonderfully developed : 
not that reckless don’t-care-a-damn-ativeness which leads a man 
to disregard all the world, and himself into the bargain. 
Claude stops before he comes to himself ; but beyond that in- 
dividual member of the Royal Academy, has not a single sym- 
pathy for a single human creature. The account of his friends’ 
deaths, woes, misfortunes, or good luck, he receives with equal 
good-nature ; he gives three splendid dinners per annum, 
Gunter, Dukes, Fortnum and Mason, everything ; he dines out 
the other three hundred and sixty-two days in the year, and was 
never known to give away a shilling, or to advance, for one half- 
hour, the forty pounds per quarter wages that he gives to Mr. 
Scumble, who works the backgrounds, limbs, and draperies of 
his portraits. 

He is not a good painter : how should he be ; whose paint- 
ing as it were never goes beyond a whisper, and who would 
make a general simpering as he looked at an advancing cannon- 
ball l — but he is not a bad painter, being a keen, respectable 


CHARACTER SKETCHES . 


59 * 

man of the world, who has a cool head, and knows what is 
what. In France, where tigerism used to be the fashion among 
the painters, I make no doubt Carmine would have let his 
beard and wig grow, and looked the fiercest of the fierce ; but 
with us a man must be genteel ; the perfection of style (in 
writing and in drawing-rooms) being “ de ne pas cn avoir,” Car- 
mine of course is agreeably vapid. His conversation has 
accordingly the flavor and briskness of a clear, brilliant, stale 
bottle of soda-water, — once in five minutes or so, you see rising 
up to the surface a little bubble — a little tiny shining point of 
wit, — it rises and explodes feebly, and then dies. With regard 
to wit, people of fashion (as we are given to understand) are 
satisfied with a mere soup $ on of it. Anything more were in- 
decorous ; a genteel stomach could not bear it : Carmine knows 
the exact proportions of the dose, and would not venture to 
administer to his sitters anything beyond the requisite quantity. 

There is a great deal more said here about Carmine — the 
man, than Carmine — the Artist ; but what can be written about 
the latter ? New ladies in white satin, new Generals in red, 
new Peers in scarlet and ermine, and stout Members of Parlia- 
ment pointing to inkstands and sheets of letter-paper, with a 
Turkey-carpet beneath them, a red curtain above them, a Doric 
pillar supporting them, and a tremendous storm of thunder 
and lightning lowering and flashing in the background, spring 
up every year, and take their due positions “ upon the line ” 
in the Academy, and send their compliments of hundreds to 
swell Carmine’s heap of Consols. If he paints Lady Flummery 
for the tenth time, in the character of the tenth Muse, what need 
have we to say anything about it ? The man is a good work- 
man, and will manufacture a decent article at the best price ; 
but we should no more think of noticing each, than of writing 
fresh critiques upon every new coat that Nugee or Stultz turned 
out. The papers say, in reference to his picture “ No. 591. 
‘ Full length portrait of her Grace the Duchess of Doldrum. 
Carmine, R. A.’ Mr. Carmine never fails ; this work, like all 
others by the same artist, is excellent:” — or, “No. 591, &c. 
The lovely Duchess of Doldrum has received from Mr. Car- 
mine’s pencil ample justice ; the chiar ’ oscuro of the picture is 
perfect ; the likeness admirable ; the keeping and coloring 
have the true Titianesque gusto ; if we might hint a fault, it 
has the left ear of the lap-dog a 4 little ’ out of drawing.” 

Then, perhaps, comes a criticism which says : “ The Du- 
chess of Doldrum’s picture by Mr. Carmine is neither better 
nor worse than five hundred other performances of the same 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


59 * 

artist. It would be very unjust to say that these Portraits are 
bad, for they have really a considerable cleverness ; but to say 
that they were good, would be quite as false ; nothing in our 
eyes was ever further from being so. Every ten years Mr. 
Carmine exhibits what is called an original picture of three 
inches square, but beyond this, nothing original is to be found 
in him : as a lad, he copied Reynolds, then Opie, then Law- 
rence ; then having made a sort of style of his own, he has 
copied himself ever since, ” &c. 

And then the critic goes on to consider the various parts of 
Carmine’s pictures. In speaking of critics, their peculiar re- 
lationship with painters ought not to be forgotten ; and as in a 
former paper we have seen how a fashionable authoress has her 
critical toadies, in like manner has the painter his enemies and 
friends in the press ; with this difference, probably, that the 
writer can bear a fair quantity of abuse without wincing, while 
the artist not uncommonly grows mad at such strictures, con- 
siders them as personal matters, inspired by a private feeling 
of hostility, and hates the critic for life who has ventured to 
question his judgmentdn any way. We have said before, poor 
Academicians, for how many conspiracies are you made to an- 
swer ! We may add now, poor critics, what black personal 
animosities are discovered for you, when you happen (right or 
wrong, but according to your best ideas) to speak the truth ! 
Say that Snooks’s picture is badly colored. — “ O heavens ! ” 
shrieks Snooks, “ what can I have done to offend this fellow ? ” 
Hint that such a figure is badly drawn — and Snooks instantly 
declares you to be his personal enemy, actuated only by envy 
and vile pique. My friend Pebbler, himself a famous Artist, is 
of opinion that the critic should never abuse the painter’s per- 
formances, because, says he, the painter knows much better than 
any one else what his own faults are, and because you never 
do him any good. Are men of the brush so obstinate ? — very 
likely : but the public — the public ? are we not to do our duty 
by it too ; and, aided by our superior knowledge and genius for 
the fine arts, point out to it the way it should go ? Yes, surely ; 
and as by the efforts of dull or interested critics many bad 
painters have been palmed off upon the nation as geniuses of 
the first degree ; in like manner, the sagacious and disinterested 
(like some we could name) have endeavored to provide this 
British nation with pure principles of taste, — or at least to pre- 
vent them from adopting such as are impure. 

Carmine, to be sure, comes in for very little abuse ; and in- 
deed, he deserves but little. He is a fashionable painter, and 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


593 


preserves the golden mediocrity which is necessary for the 
fashion. Let us bid him good-by. He lives in a house all to 
himself, most likely, — has a footman, sometimes a carriage ; is 
apt to belong to the “ Athenaeum ; ” and dies universally re- 
spected ; that is, not one single soul cares for him dead, as he, 
living, did not care for one single soul. 

Then, perhaps, we should mention M'Gilp, or Blather, 
rising young men, who will fill Carmine’s place one of these 

days, and occupy his house in , when the fulness of time 

shall come, and (he borne to a narrow grave in the Harrow 
Road by the whole mourning Royal Academy) they shall leave 
their present first floor in Newman Street, and step into his 
very house and shoes. 

There is little difference between the juniors and the seniors ; 
they grin when they are talking of him together, and express a 
perfect confidence that they can paint a head against Carmine 
any day — as very likely they can. But until his demise, they 
are occupied with painting people about the Regent’s Park and 
Russell Square ; are very glad to have the chance of a popular 
clergyman, or a college tutor, or a mayor of Stoke Poges after 
the Reform Bill. Such characters are commonly mezzotinted 
afterwards ; and the portrait of our esteemed townsman So-and- 
so, by that talented artist Mr. M‘Gilp, of London, is favorably 
noticed by the provincial press, and is to be found over the 
sideboards of many country gentlemen. If they come up to 
town, to whom do they go ? To M‘Gilp, to be sure ; and thus, 
slowly, his practice and his prices increase. 

The Academy student is a personage that should not be 
omitted here ; he resembles very much, outwardly, the medical 
student, and has many of the latter’s habits and pleasures. He 
very often wears a broad-brimmed hat and a fine dirty crimson 
velvet waistcoat, his hair commonly grows long, and he has 
braiding to his pantaloons. He works leisurely at the Academy, 
he loves theatres, billiards, and novels, and has his house-of-call 
somewhere in the neighborhood of Saint Martin’s Lane, where 
he and his brethren meet and sneer at Royal Academicians. 
If you ask him what line of art he pursues, he answers with a 
smile exceedingly supercilious, “ Sir, I am an historical painter ;’ r 
meaning that he will only condescend to take subjects from 
Hume, or Robertson, or from the classics — which he knows 
nothing about. This stage of an historical painter is only pre- 
paratory, lasting perhaps from eighteen to five-and-twenty, when 
the gentleman’s madness begins to disappear, and he comes to 
look at life sternly in the face, and to learn that man shall not 


594 


CHARACTER SKETCHES . 


live by historical painting alone. Then our friend falls to por- 
trait-painting, or annual-painting, or makes some other such sad 
compromise with necessity. 

He has probably a small patrimony, which defrays the charge 
of his studies and cheap pleasures during his period of appren- 
ticeship. He makes the oblige tour to France and Italy, and 
returns from those countries with a multitude of spoiled canvases 
and a large pair of mustaches, with which he establishes him- 
self in one of the dingy streets of Soho before mentioned. 
There is poor Pipson, a man of indomitable patience, and un- 
dying enthusiasm for his profession. He could paper Exeter 
Hall with his studies from the life, and with portraits in chalk 
and oil of French sctpeurs and Italian brigands, that kindly 
descend from their mountain-caverns, and quit their murderous 
occupations, in order to sit to young gentlemen at Rome, at the 
rate of tenpence an hour. Pipson returns from abroad, estab- 
lishes himself, has his cards printed, and waits and wait* for 
commissions for great historical pictures. Meanwhile, night 
after night, he is to be found at his old place in the Academy, 
copying the old life-guardsman — working, working away — and 
never advancing one jot. At eighteen, Pipson copied statues 
and life-guardsmen to admiration ; at five-and-thirty he can 
make admirable drawings of life-guardsmen and statues. Be- 
yond this he never goes ; year after year his historical picture 
is returned to him by the envious Academicians, and he grows 
old, and his little patrimony is long since spent ; and he earns 
nothing himself. How does he support hope and life ? — that 
is the wonder. No one knows until he tries (which God forbid 
he should !) upon what a small matter hope and life can be sup- 
ported. Our poor fellow lives on from year to year in a 
miraculous way ; tolerably cheerful in the midst of his semi- 
starvation, and wonderfully confident about next year, in spite 
of the failures of the last twenty-five. Let us thank God for 
imparting to us, poor weak mortals, the inestimable blessing of 
vanity. How many half-witted votaries of the arts — poets, 
painters, actors, musicians — live upon this food, and scarcely 
any other ! — If the delusion were to drop from Pipson’s eyes, 
and he should see himself as he is, — if some malevolent genius 
were to mingle with his feeble brains one fatal particle of com- 
mon sense, — he would just walk off Waterloo Bridge, and abjure 
poverty, incapacity, cold lodgings, unpaid baker’s bills, ragged 
elbows, and deferred hopes, at once and forever. 

We do not mean to depreciate the profession of historical 
painting, but simply to warn youth against it as dangerous and 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


595 


unprofitable. It is as if a young fellow should say, “ I will be 
a Raffaelle or a Titian, — a Milton or a Shakspeare, ,, and if 
he will count up how many people have lived since the world 
began, and how many there have been of the Raffaelle or 
Shakspeare sort, he can calculate to a nicety what are the 
chances in his favor. Even successful historical painters, what 
are they ? — in a worldly point of view, they mostly inhabit the 
second floor, or have great desolate studios in back premises, 
whither life-guardsmen, old-clothesmen, blackamoors, and other 
“ properties ” are conducted, to figure at full length as Roman 
conquerors, Jewish high-priests, or Othellos on canvas. Then 
there are gay, smart, water-color painters, — a flourishing and 
pleasant trade. Then there are shabby, fierce-looking geniuses, 
in ringlets, and all but rags, who paint, and whose pictures are 
never sold, and who vow they are the objects of some general 
and scoundrelly conspiracy. There are landscape painters, 
who travel to the uttermost ends of the earth and brave heat 
and cold, to bring to the greedy British public views of Cairo, 
Calcutta, St. Petersburg, Timbuctoo. You see English artists 
under the shadow of the Pyramids, making sketches of the 
Copts, perched on the backs of dromedaries, accompanying a 
caravan across the desert, or getting materials for an annual in 
Iceland or Siberia. What genius and what energy dp not they 
all exhibit — these men, whose profession, in this wise country 
of ours, is scarcely considered as liberal ! 

If we read the works of the Reverend Dr. Lempriere, 
Monsieur Winckelmann, Professor Plato, and others who have 
written concerning the musty old Grecians, we shall find that 
the Artists of those barbarous times meddled with all sorts of 
trades besides their own, and dabbled in fighting, philosophy, 
metaphysics, both Scotch and German, politics, music, and the 
deuce knows what. A rambling sculptor who used to go about 
giving lectures in those days, Socrates by name, declared that 
the wisest of men in his time were artists. This Plato, before 
mentioned, went through a regular course of drawing, figure 
and landscape, black-lead, chalk, with or without stump, sepia, 
water-color, and oils. Was there ever such absurdity known? 
Among these benighted heathens, painters were the most ac- 
complished gentlemen, — and the most accomplished gentlemen 
were painters ; the former would make you a speech, or read 
you a dissertation on Kant, or lead you a regiment, — with the 
very best statesman, philosopher, or soldier in Athens. And 
they had the folly to say, that by thus busying and accomplish- 
ing themselves in all manly studies, they were advancing 


CHARACTER SKETCHES. 


59 6 

eminently in their own peculiar one. What was the com 
sequence ? Why, that fellow Socrates not only made a 
miserable fifth-rate sculptor, but was actually hanged for 
treason. 

And serve him right. Do our young artists study anything 
beyond the proper way of cutting a pencil, or drawing a model ? 
Do you hear of them hard at work over books, and bothering 
their brains with musty learning ? Not they, forsooth : we 
understand the doctrine of division of labor, and each man 
sticks to his trade. Artists do not meddle with the pursuits of 
the rest of the world ; and, in revenge, the rest of the world 
does not meddle with Artists. Fancy an Artist being a senior 
wrangler or a politician ; and on the other hand, fancy a real 
gentleman turned painter ! No, no ; ranks are defined. A 
real gentleman may get money by the law, or by wearing a red 
coat and fighting, or a black one and preaching ; but that he 
should sell himself to Art — forbid it, heaven ! And do not let 
your ladyship on reading this cry, “ Stuff ! — stupid envy, rank 
republicanism, — an artist is a gentleman. ” Madam, would you 
like to see your son, the Honorable Fitzroy Plantagenet, a 
painter? You would die sooner ; the escutcheon of the Smig- 
smags would be blotted forever, if Plantagenet ever ventured 
to make a mercantile use of a bladder of paint. 

Time was — some hundred years back — when writers lived 
in Grub Street, and poor ragged Johnson shrunk behind a 
screen in Cave’s parlor — that the author’s trade was considered 
a very mean one ; which a gentleman of family could not take 
up but as an amateur. This absurdity is pretty nearly worn 
out, now, and I do humbly hope and pray for the day when the 
other shall likewise disappear. If there be any nobleman 
with a talent that way, why — why don’t we see him among 
the R. A.’s? 


501. The Schoolmaster. Sketch taken 

abroad 

502. View of the Artist’s residence at 

Windsor 

503. Murder of the Babes in the Tower. 

504. A little Agitation 


Brum, Henry, Lord, F.F.S., S.A., 

0/ the National Institute of France 

Maconkey, Right Honorable T. B. 

Rustle, Lord J. 

Pill, Right Honorable Sir Robert. 
O’Carol, Daniel, M. R. I. A. 


Fancy, I say, such names as these figuring in the catalogue 
of the Academy : and why should they not ? The real glorious 
days of the art (which wants equality and not patronage) will 
revive then. Patronage — a plague on the word ! — it implies 
inferiority ; and in the name of all that is sensible, why is a 


CHARACTER SKETCHES, 


597 


respectable country gentleman, or a city attorney’s lady, or any 
person of any rank, however exalted, to “patronize ” an Artist 1 

There are some who sigh for the past times, when magnifi- 
cent, swaggering Peter Paul Rubens (who himself patronized a 
queen) rode abroad with a score of gentlemen in his train, and 
a purse-bearer to scatter ducats ; and who love to think how he 
was made an English knight and a Spanish grandee, and went 
of embassies as if he had been a born marquis. Sweet it is to 
remember, too, that Sir Antony Vandyck, K.B., actually married 
out of the peerage : and that when Titian dropped his mahlstick, 
the Emperor Charles V. picked it up (O gods ! what heroic 
self-devotion) — picked it up, saying, “ I can make fifty dukes, 
but not one Titian.” Nay, was not the Pope of Rome going 
to make Raffaelle a Cardinal, — and were not these golden days ? 

Let us say at once, “ No.” The very fuss made about 
certain painters in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries shows 
that the body of artists had no rank or position in the world. 
They hung upon single patrons : and every man who holds his 
place by such a tenure, must feel himself an inferior, more or 
less. The times are changing now, and as authors are no 
longer compelled to send their works abroad under the guardian- 
ship of a great man and a slavish dedication, painters, too, are 
beginning to deal directly with the public. Who are the great 
picture-buyers now ? — the engravers and their employers, the 
people, — “the only source of legitimate power,” as they 
say after dinner. A fig then for Cardinals’ hats ! were Mr. 
O’Connell in power to-morrow let us hope he would not give 
one, not even a paltry bishopric in pariibus , to the best painter 
in the Academy. What need have they of honors out of the 
profession ? Why are they to be be-knighted like a parcel of 
aldermen ? — for my part, I solemnly declare, that I will take 
nothing under a peerage, after the exhibition of my great pic- 
ture, and don’t see, if painters must have titles conferred upon 
them for eminent services, why the Marquis of Mulready or the 
Earl of Landseer should not sit in the house as well as any law 
or soldier lord. 

The truth to be elicited from this little digressive disserta- 
tion is this painful one, — that young Artists are not generally 
as well instructed as they should be ; and let the Royal Academy 
look to it, and give some sound courses of lectures to their 
pupils on literature and history, as well as on anatomy, or light 
and shade. 



THE 

TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 

OF 

MAJOR GAHAGAN. 



?•••!-< riYiXYUA 8UOCIVI3MJIXT o' '? 

•u> 

; ' A!) A u AD HO 1AM 




THE 


TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 

OF 

MAJOR GAHAGAN. 


Chapter I. 

“truth is strange, stranger than fiction.” 

I think it but right that in making my appearance before 
the public I should at once acquaint them with my titles and 
name. My card, as I leave it at the houses of the nobility, my 
friends, is. as follows 


MAJOR GOLIAH O'GRADY GAHAGAN, HE.I.C.S . , 
Commanding Battalion of 

Irregular Horse , 
AHMEDNUGGAR. 


Seeing, I say, this simple visiting ticket, the world will avoid 
any of those awkward mistakes as to my person, which have 
been so frequent of late. There has been no end to the blun- 
ders regarding this humble title of mine, and the confusion 
thereby created. When I published my volume of poems, for 
instance, the ftforning Post newspaper remarked “ that the 
Lyrics of the Heart, by Miss Gahagan, may be ranked among 
the sweetest flowrets of the present spring season,” The 

10 



142 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


Quarterly Review, commenting upon my “ Observations on the 
Pons Asinorum ” (4to. London, 1836), called me “Doctor 
Gahagan,” and so on. It was time to put an end to these mis- 
takes, and I have taken the above simple remedy. 

I was urged to it by a very exalted personage. Dining in 
August last at the palace of the T — lr-es at Paris, the lovely 
young Duch-ss of Orl — ns (who, though she does not speak 
English, understands it as well as I do), said to me in the 
softest Teutonic, “ Lieber Herr Major, haben sie den Ahmed- 
nuggarischen-jager-battalion gelassen ? ” “ Warum denn ? ” 

said I, quite astonished at her R — 1 H ss’s question. The 

P — cess then spoke of some trifle from my pen, which was 
simply signed Goliah Gahagan. 

There was, unluckily, a dead silence as H. R. H. put this 
question. a • 

“ Comment done ? ” said H. M. Lo-is Ph-l-ppe, looking 
gravely at Count Mole; “le cher Major a quitte l’arme'e ! 

Nicolas done sera maitre de l’lnde !” H. M and the Pr. 

M-n-ster pursued their conversation in a low tone, and left me, 
as may be imagined, in a dreadful state of confusion. I blushed 
and stuttered, and murmured out a few incoherent words to ex- 
plain — but it would not do— I could not recover my equanimity 
during the course of the dinner ; and while endeavoring to help 
an English duke, my neighbor, to poulet a P Austerlitz, fairly sent 
seven mushrooms and three large greasy crofites over his whisk- 
ers and shirt-frill. Another laugh at my expense. “ Ah ! M. 

le Major,” said the Q of the B-lg — ns, archly, “ vous 

n’aurez jamais votre brevet de Colonel.” Her M y’s joke 

will be better understood when I state that his Grace is the 
brother of a Minister. 

I am not at liberty to violate the sanctity of private life, by 
mentioning the names of the parties concerned in this little 
anecdote. I only wish to have it understood that I am a gentle- 
man, and live at least in decent society. Verbum sat. 

But to be serious. I am obliged always to write the name 
of Goliah in full, to distinguish me from my brother, Gregory 
Gahagan, who was also a Major (in the King’s service), and 
whom I killed in a duel, as the public most likely knows. Poor 
Greg ! a very trivial dispute was the cause of our quarrel, which 
never would have originated but for the similarity of our names. 
The circumstance was this : I had been lucky enough to render 
the Nawaub of Lucknow some trifling service (in the notorious 
affair of Choprasjee Muckjee), and his Highness sent down a 
gold toothpick-case directed to Captain G. Gahagan, which I 


OF MAJOR G A HA GAM. 


*43 


of course thought was for me : my brother madly claimed it ; 
we fought, and the consequence was, that in about three min- 
utes he received a slash on the right side (cut 6), which effectu- 
ally did his business : — he was a good swordsman enough — I 
was the best in the universe. The most ridiculous part of the 
affair is, that the toothpick-case was his after all — he had left 
it on the Nawaub’s table at tiffin. I can’t conceive what mad- 
ness prompted him to fight about such a paltry bauble ; he had 
much better have yielded it at once, when he saw I was de- 
termined to have it. From this slight specimen of my adven- 
tures, the reader will perceive that my life has been one of 
no ordinary interest ; and, in fact, I may say that I have led a 
more remarkable life than any man in the service — I have been 
at more pitched battles, led more forlorn hopes, had more suc- 
cess among the fair sex, drunk harder, read more, and been a 
handsomer man than any officer now serving her Majesty. 

When I first went to India in 1802, I was a raw cornet of 
seventeen, with blazing red hair, six feet four in height, athletic 
at all kinds of exercises, owing money to my tailor and every- 
body else who would trust me, possessing an Irish brogue, and 
my full pay of 120/. a year. I need not say that with all these 
advantages I did that which a number of clever fellows have 
done before me — I fell in love, and proposed to marry im- 
mediately. 

But how to overcome the difficulty ? — It is true that I loved 
Julia Jowler — loved her to madness ; but her father intended 
her for a Member of Council at least, and not for a beggarly 
Irish ensign. It was, however, my fate to make the passage to 
India (on board of the “ Samuel Snob” East Indiaman, Cap- 
tain Duffy,) with this lovely creature, and my misfortune in- 
stantaneously to fall in love with her. We were not out of the 
Channel before I adored her, worshipped the deck which she 
trod upon, kissed a thousand times the cuddy-chair on which 
she used to sit. The same madness fell on every man in the 
ship. The two mates fought about her at the Cape ; the sur- 
geon, a sober, pious Scotchman, from disappointed affection, 
took so dreadfully to drinking as to threaten spontaneous com- 
bustion ; and old Colonel Lilywhite, carrying his wife and seven 
daughters to Bengal, swore that he would have a divorce from 
Mrs. L., and made an attempt at suicide ; the captain himself 
told me, with tears in his eyes, that he hated his hitherto- 
adored Mrs. Duffy, although he had had nineteen children by 
her. 

We used to call her the witch — there was magic in her 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


144 

beauty and in her voice. I was spell-bound when I looked at 
her, and stark staring mad when she looked at me ! O lustrous 
black eyes ! — O glossy night-black ringlets ! — O lips ! — O dainty 
frocks of white muslin ! — O tiny kid slippers ? — though old and 
gouty, Gahagan sees you still ! I recollect, off Ascension, she 
looked at me in her particular way one day at dinner, just as I 
happened to be blowing on a piece of scalding hot green fat. 
I was stupefied at once — I thrust the entire morsel (about half 
a pound) into my mouth. I made no attempt to swallow, or to 
masticate it, but left it there for many minutes, burning, burn- 
ing ! I had no skin to my palate for seven weeks after, and 
lived on rice-water during the rest of the voyage. The anecdote 
is trivial, but it shows the power of Julia Jowler over me. 

The writers of marine novels have so exhausted the subject 
of storms, shipwrecks, mutinies, engagements, sea-sickness, and 
so forth, that (although I have experienced each of these in 
many varieties) I think it quite unnecessary to recount such 
trifling adventures ; suffice it to say, that during our five 
months’ trajet . , my mad passion for Julia daily increased ; so 
did Colonel Lilywhite’s ; so did the doctor’s, the mate’s — that 
of most part of the passengers, and a considerable number of 
the crew. For myself, I swore — ensign as I was — I would win 
her for my wife ; I vowed that I would make her glorious with 
my sword — that as soon as I had nfade a favorable impres- 
sion on my commanding officer (which I did not doubt to 
create), I would lay open to him the state of my affections, and 
demand his daughter’s hand. With such sentimental outpour- 
ings did our voyage continue and conclude. 

We landed at the Sunderbunds on a grilling hot day in 
December, 1802, and then for the moment Julia and I separated. 
She was carried off to her papa’s arms in a palankeen, sur- 
rounded by at least forty hookahbadars ; whilst the poor cc net, 
attended but by two dandies and a solitary beasty (by which 
unnatural name these blackamoors are called), made his way 
humbly to join the regiment at head-quarters. 

The — th Regiment of Bengal Cavalry, then under the 
command of Lieut.-Colonel Julius Jowler, C. B., was known 
throughout Asia and Europe by the proud title of the Bundel- 
cund Invincibles — so great was its character for bravery, so 
remarkable were its services in that delightful district of India. 
Major Sir George Gutch was next in command, and Tom 
Thrupp, as kind a fellow as ever ran a Mahratta through the 
body, was second Major. We were on the eve of that remark- 
able war which was speedily to spread throughout the whole of 


OF MAJOR GAMA GAM. 


1 45 

India, to call forth the valor of a Wellesley, and the indomitable 
gallantry of a Gahagan ; which was illustrated by our victories 
at Ahmednuggar (where I was the first over the barricade at 
the storming of the Pettah) ; at Arnaum, where I slew with my 
own sword twenty-three matchlock-men, and cut a dromedary 
in two ; and by that terrible day of Assaye, where Wellesley 
would have been beaten but for me — me alone: I headed nine- 
teen charges of cavalry, took (aided by only four men of my 
own troop) seventeen field-pieces, killing the scoundrelly 
French artillerymen ; on that day I had eleven elephants shot 
under me, and carried away Scindiah’s nose-ring with a pistol- 
ball. Wellesley is a Duke and a Marshal, I but a simple Major 
of Irregulars. Such is fortune and war ! But my feelings carry 
me away from my narrative, which had better proceed with 
more order. 

On arriving, I say, at our barracks at Dum Dum, I for the 
first time put on the beautiful uniform of the Invincibles : a 
light-blue swallow-tailed jacket with silver lace and wings, orna- 
mented with about 3,000 sugar-loaf buttons, rhubarb-colored 
leather inexpressibles (tights), and red morocco boots with 
silver spurs and tassels, set off to admiration the handsome 
persons of the officers of our corps. We wore powder in those 
days ; and a regulation pigtail of seventeen inches, a brass 
helmet surrounded by leopard-skin, with a bearskin top and a 
horsetail feather, gave the head a fierce and chivalrous appear- 
ance, which is far more easily imagined than described. 

Attired in this magnificent costume, I first presented myself 
before Colonel Jowler. He was habited in a manner precisely 
similar, but not being more than five feet in height, and weigh- 
ing at least fifteen stone, the dress he wore did not become him 
quite so much as slimmer and taller men. Flanked by his 
tall Majors, Thrapp and Gutch, he looked like a stumpy skittle- 
ball between two attenuated skittles. The plump little Colonel 
received me with vast cordiality, and I speedily became a prime 
favorite with himself and the other officers of the corps. 
Jowler was the most hospitable of men • and gratifying my ap- 
petite and my love together, I continually partook of his din- 
ners, and feasted on the sweet presence of Julia. 

I can see now, what I would not and could not perceive in 
those early days, that this Miss Jowler — on whom I had 
lavished my first and warmest love, whom I had endowed with 
all perfection and purity — was no better than a little impudent 
flirt, who played with my feelings, because during the monotony 
of a sea-voyage she had no other toy to play with ; and who 


146 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


deserted others for me, and me for others, just as her whim or 
her interest might guide her. She had not been three weeks 
at head-quarters when half the regiment was in love with her. 
Each and all of the candidates had some favor to boast of, or 
some encouraging hopes on which to build. It was the scene 
of the “ Samuel Snob ” over again, only heightened in interest 
by a number of duels. The following list will give the reader 
a notion of some of them : — 

1. Cornet Gahagan Ensign Hicks, of the Sappers and Miners. 

Hicks received a ball in his jaw, and was 
half choked by a quantity of carroty 
whisker forced down his throat with th* 
ball. 

2 . Capt. Macgillicuddy, B. N. I Cornet Gahagan. I was run through the 

body, but the sword passed between the 
ribs, and injured me very slightly. 

3 . Capt. Macgillicuddy, B. N.I . ....Mr, Mulligatawny, B. C. S., Deputy-As- 

sistant Vice Sub-Controller of the Bog- 
gley wollah Indigo grounds, Ramgolly 
branch. 

Macgillicuddy should have stuck to sword’s-play, and he might 
have come off his second duel as well as in his first ; as it was, 
the civilian placed a ball and a part of Mac’s gold repeater in 
his stomach. A remarkable circumstance attended this shot, 
an account of which I sent home to the “ Philosophical Trans- 
actions : ” the surgeon had extracted the ball, and was going 
off, thinking that all was well, when the gold repeater struck 
thirteen in poor Macgillicuddy’s abdomen. I suppose that the 
works must have been disarranged in some way by the bullet, 
for the repeater was one of Barraud’s, never known to fail be- 
fore, and the circumstance occurred at seven o’clock.* 

I could continue, almost ad infinitum , an account of the wars 
which this Helen occasioned, but the above three specimens 
will, I should think, satisfy the peaceful reader. I delight not in 
scenes of blood, heaven knows, but I was compelled in the 
course of a few weeks, and for the sake of this one woman, to 
fight nine duels myself, and I know that four times as many 
more took place concerning her. 

I forgot to say that Jowler’s wife was a half-caste woman, 
who had been born and bred entirely in India, and whom the 

* So admirable are the performances of these watches, which will stand in any climate, 
that I repeatedly heard poor Macgillicuddy relate the following fact. The hours, as it is 
known, count in Italy from one to twenty-four: the day Mac landed at Naples his ro» 
peater rung the Italian hours, from one to twenty four ; as soon as he crossed the Alpfl 
it only sounded as usual.— G. O’Gt G. 


OF MAJOR G A HA GAN. 


*47 


Colonel had married from the house of her mother, a native. 
There were some singular rumors abroad regarding this lady’s 
history : it was reported that she was the daughter of a native 
Rajah, and had been carried off by a poor English subaltern 
in Lord Clive’s time. The young man was killed very soon 
after, and left his child with its mother. The black Prince 
forgave his daughter and bequeathed to her a handsome sum 
of money. I suppose that it was on this account that Jowler 
married Mrs. J., a creature who had not, I do believe, a Chris- 
tian name, or a single Christian quality : she was a hideous, 
bloated, yellow creature, with a beard, black teeth, and red 
eyes : she was fat, lying, ugly, and stingy — she hated and was 
hated by all the world, and by her jolly husband as devoutly 
as by any other. She did not pass a month in the year with 
him, but spent most of her time with her native friends. I 
wonder how she could have given birth to so lovely a creature 
as her daughter. This woman was of course with the Colonel 
when Julia arrived, and the spice of the devil in her daughter’s 
composition was most carefully nourished and fed by her. If 
Julia had been a flirt before, she was a downright jilt now ; she 
set the whole cantonment by the ears ; she made wives jealous 
and husbands miserable ; she caused all those duels of which 
I have discoursed already, and yet such was the fascination of 
the witch that I still thought her an angel. I made court to 
the nasty mother in order to be near the daughter ; and I 
listened untiringly to Jowler’s interminable dull stories, because 
I was occupied all the time in watching the graceful movements 
of Miss Julia. 

But the trumpet of war was soon ringing in our ears ; and on 
the battle-field Gahagan is a man ! The Bundelcund Invinci- 
bles received orders to march, and Jowler, Hector like, donned 
his helmet and prepared to part from his Andromache. And 
now arose his perplexity : what must be done with his daughter, 
his Julia ? He knew his wife’s peculiarities of living, and did 
not much care to trust his daughter to her keeping ; but in 
vain he tried to find her an asylum among the respectable 
ladies of his regiment. Lady Gutch offered to receive her, but 
would have nothing to do with Mrs. Jowler ; the surgeon’s 
wife, Mrs. Sawbone, would have neither mother nor daughter ; 
there was no help for it, Julia and her mother must have a 
house together, and Jowler knew that his wife would fill it with 
her odious blackamoor friends. 

I could not, however, go forth satisfied to the campaign until 
l learned from Julia my fate. I watched twenty opportunities 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


148 

to see her alone, and wandered about the Colonel’s bungalovf 
as an informer does about a public house, marking the in- 
comings and the outgoings of the family, and longing to seize 
the moment when Miss Jowler, unbiassed by her mother or her 
papa, might listen, perhaps, to my eloquence, and melt at the 
tale of my love. 

But it would not do — old Jowler seemed to have taken all 
of a sudden to such a fit of domesticity, that there was no 
finding him out of doors, and his rhubarb-colored wife (I 
believe that her skin gave the first idea of our regimental 
breeches), who before had been gadding ceaselessly abroad, 
and poking her broad nose into every menage in the canton- 
ment, stopped faithfully at home with her spouse. My only 
chance was to beard the old couple in their den, and ask them 
at once for their cub. 

So I called one day at tiffin : — old Jowler was always happy 
to have my company at this meal ; it amused him, he said, to 
see me drink Hodgson’s pale ale (I drank two hundred and 
thirty-four dozen the first year I was in Bengal) — and it was 
no small piece of fun, certainly, to see old Mrs. Jowler attack 
the currie-bhaut ; — she was exactly the color of it, as I have had 
already the honor to remark, and she swallowed the mixture 
with a gusto which was never equalled, except by my poor 
friend Dando d propos d'huitrcs . She consumed the first three 
platefuls with a fork and spoon, like a Christian ; but as sne 
warmed to her work, the old hag would throw away her silver 
implements, and dragging the dishes towards her, go to work 
with her hands, flip the rice into her mouth with her fingers, 
and stow away a quantity of eatables sufficient for a sepoy 
company. But why do I diverge from the main point of my 
story ? 

Julia, then, Jowler, and Mrs. J., were at luncheon : the dear 
girl was in the act to sabler a glass of Hodgson as I entered. 
“ How do you do, Mr. Gagin ? ” said the old hag, leeringly. 
“ Eat a bit of currie-bhaut,” — and she thrust the dish towards 
me, securing a heap as it passed. “ What ! Gagy my boy, how 
do, how do ? ” said the fat Colonel. “ What ! run through the 
body ? — got well again — have some Hodgson — run through 
your body too ! ” — and at this, I may say, coarse joke (alluding 
to the fact in these hot climates the ale oozes out as it were 
from the pores of the skin) old Jowler laughed: a host of 
swarthy chopdars, kitmatgars, sices, consomahs, and bobbychies 
laughed too, as they provided me, unasked, with the grateful 
fluid. Swallowing six tumblers of it, I paused nervously for a 
moment, and then said — 


OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. 


149 


“Bobbachy, consomah, ballybaloo hoga.” 

The black ruffians took the hint, and retired. 

44 Colonel and Mrs. Jowler,” said I solemnly, “we are 
alone; and you, Miss Jowler, you are alone too; that is — I 
mean — I take this opportunity to — (another glass of ale, if you 
please,) — to express, once for all, before departing on a dan- 
gerous campaign ” — (Julia turned pale) — 44 before entering, I 
say, upon a war which may stretch in the dust my high-raised 
hopes and me, to express my hopes while life still remains to 
me, and to declare in the face of heaven, earth, and Colonel 
Jowler, that I love you, Julia ! ” The Colonel, astonished, let 
fall a steel fork, which stuck quivering for some minutes in the 
calf of my leg; but I heeded not the paltry interruption. 
44 Yes, by yon bright heaven,” continued I, 44 1 love you, Julia ! 
I respect my commander, I esteem your excellent and beaute- 
ous mother ; tell me, before I leave you, if I may hope for a 
return of my affection. Say that you love me, and I will do 
such deeds in this coming war, as shall make you proud of the 
name of your Gahagan.” 

The old woman, as I delivered these touching words, stared, 
snapped and ground her teeth, like an enraged monkey. Julia 
was now red, now white ; the Colonel stretched forward, took 
the fork out of the calf of my leg, wiped it, and then seized a 
bundle of letters which I had remarked by his side. 

44 A cornet ! ” said he, in a voice choking with emotion ; 44 a 
pitiful, beggarly Irish cornet aspire to the hand of Julia Jowler ! 
Gag — Gahagan, are you mad, or laughing at us ? Look at 
these letters, young man — at these letters, I say — one hundred 
and twenty-four epistles from every part of India (not including 
one from the Governor-General, and six from his brother, Col- 
onel Wellesley,) — one hundred and twenty-four proposals for 
the hand of Miss Jowler! Cornet Gahagan,” he continued, 
44 1 wish to think well of you : you are the bravest, the most 
modest, and, perhaps, the handsomest man in our corps ; but 
you have not got a single rupee. You ask me for Julia, and 
you do not possess even an anna ! ” — (Here the old rogue 
grinned, as if he had made a capital pun.) — 44 No, no,” said he, 
waxing good-natured; 44 Gagy my boy, it is nonsense! Julia 
love, retire with your mamma ; this silly young gentleman will 
remain and smoke a pipe with me.” 

I took one ; it was the bitterest chillum I ever smoked in my 

life. 

* # # # # 

I am not going to give here an account of my military ser 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


x 5° 

vices ; they will appear in my great national autobiography, in 
forty volumes, which I am now preparing for the press. I was 
with my regiment in all Wellesley’s brilliant campaigns ; then 
taking dawk, I travelled across the country north-eastward, and 
had the honor of fighting by the side of Lord Lake at Laswa- 
ree, Deeg, Furrukabad, Futtyghur, and Bhurtpore : but I will 
not boast of my actions — the military man knows them, my 
sovereign appreciates them. If asked who was the bravest 
man of the Indian army, there is not an officer belonging to it 
who would not cry at once, Gahagan. The fact is, I was des- 
perate : I cared not for life, deprived of Julia Jowler. 

With Julia’s stony looks ever before my eyes, her father’s 
stern refusal in my ears, I did not care, at the close of the cam- 
paign, again to seek her company or press my suit. We were 
eighteen months on service, marching and countermarching, 
and fighting almost every other day ; to the world I did not 
seem altered ; but the world only saw the face, and not the 
seared and blighted heart within me. My valor, always des- 
perate, now reached to a pitch of cruelty ; I tortured my grooms 
and grass-cutters for the most trifling offence or error, — I never 
in action spared a man, — I sheared off three hundred and 
nine heads in the course of that single campaign. 

Some influence, equally melancholy, seemed to have fallen 
upon poor old Jowler. About six months after we had left 
Duin Dum, he received a parcel of letters from Benares 
(whither his wife had retired with her daughter), and so deeply 
did they seem to weigh upon his spirits, that he ordered eleven 
men of his regiment to be flogged within two days ; but it was 
against the blacks that he chiefly turned his wrath. Our fel- 
lows, in the heat and hurry of the campaign, were in the habit 
of dealing rather roughly with their prisoners, to extract treas- 
ure from them : they used to pull their nails out by the root, 
to boil them in kedgeree pots, to flog them and dress their 
wounds with cayenne pepper, and so on. Jowler, when he 
heard of these proceedings, which before had always justly 
exasperated him (he was a humane and kind little man), used 
now to smile fiercely and say, “ D — the black scoundrels ! 
Serve them right, serve them right ! ” 

One day, about a couple of miles in advance of the column, 
I had been on a foraging party with a few dragoons, and was 
returning peaceably to camp, when of a sudden a troop of 
Mahrattas burst on us from a neighboring mango-tope, in which 
they had been hidden : in an instant three of my men’s sad- 
dles were empty and I was left with but seven more to make 


OF MAJOR G A HA GAN. 


* 5 * 

head against at least thirty of these vagabond black horsemen. 
I never saw in my life a nobler figure than the leader of the 
troop — mounted on a splendid black Arab : he was as tall, 
very nearly, as myself ; he wore a steel cap and a shirt of mail, 
and carried a beautiful French carbine, which had already done 
execution upon two of my men. I saw that our only chance 
of safety lay in the destruction of this man. I shouted to him 
in a voice of thunder (in the Hindustanee tongue of course), 
“ Stop, dog, if you dare, and encounter a man ! ” 

In reply his lance came whirling in the air over my head, 
and mortally transfixed poor Foggarty of ours, who was be- 
hind me. Grinding my teeth and swearing horribly, I drew 
that scimitar which never yet failed its blow,* and rushed at 
the Indian. He came down at full gallop, his own sword mak- 
ing ten thousand gleaming circles in the air, shrieking his cry 
of battle. 

The contest did not last an instant. With my first blow I 
cut off his sword-arm at the wrist ; my second I levelled at 
his head. I said that he wore a steel cap, with a gilt iron 
spike of six inches, and a hood of chain mail. I rose in my 
stirrups and delivered “St. George;” my sword caught the 
spike exactly on the point, split it sheer in two, cut crashing 
through the steel cap and hood, and was only stopped by a 
ruby which he wore in his back-plate. His head, cut clean in 
two between the eyebrows and nostrils, even between the two* 
front teeth, fell one side on each shoulder, and he galloped 
on till his horse was stopped by my men, who were not a little 
amused at the feat. 

As I had expected, the remaining ruffians fled on seeing 
their leader’s fate. I took home his helmet by way of curios- 
itv, and we made a single prisoner, who was instantly carried 
before old Jowler, 

We asked the prisoner the name of the leader of the troop y 
he said it was Chowder Loll. 

“ Chowder Loll ! ” shrieked Colonel Jowler. “ O fate ! thy 
hand is here ! ” He rushed wildly into his tent — the next day 
applied for leave of absence. Gutch took the command of the 
regiment, and I saw him no more for some time. 

* # * * * * 

As I had distinguished myself not a little during the war, 
General Lake sent me up with despatches to Calcutta, where 
Lord Wellesley received me with the greatest distinction. 

• In my affair with Macgillicuddy, I was fool enough to go out with small-swords 
miserable weapons, only fit tor tailors. — G. O’G* G» 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


* 5 * 

Fancy my surprise, on going to a ball at Government House, 
to meet my old friend Jowler ; my trembling, blushing, thrilling 
delight, when I saw Julia by his side ! 

Jowler seemed to blush too when he beheld me. I thought 
of my former passages with his daughter. “ Gagy my boy,” 
says he, shaking hands, “ glad to see you. Old friend, Julia — 
come to tiffin — Hodgson’s pale — brave fellow Gagy.” Julia 
did not speak, but she turned ashy pale, and fixed upon me her 
awful eyes ! I fainted almost, and uttered some incoherent 
words. Julia took my hand, gazed at me still, and said, 
“ Come ! ” Need I say I went ? 

I will not go over the pale ale and currie-bhaut again ; but 
this I know, that in half an hour I was as much in love as I 
ever had been : and that in three weeks I — yes, I — was the 
accepted lover of Julia ! I did not pause to ask where were the 
one hundred and twenty-four offers ? why I, refused before, 
should be accepted now ? I only felt that I loved her, and was 
happy ! 

# * * * * 

One night, one memorable night, I could not sleep, and, 
with a lover’s pardonable passion, wandered solitary through 
the city of palaces until I came to the house which contained 
my Julia. I peeped into the compound — all was still ; I looked 
into the verandah — all was dark, except a light — yes, one light 
— and it was in Julia’s chamber! My heart throbbed almost 
to stifling. I would — I would advance, if but to gaze upon 
her for a moment, and to bless her as she slept. I did look, I 
did advance ; and, O heaven ! I saw a lamp burning, Mrs. 
Jow. in a night-dress, with a very dark baby in her arms, and 
Julia looking tenderly at an ayah, who was nursing another. 

“ Oh, mamma,” said Julia, “ what would that fool Gahagan 
say if he knew all ? ” 

“ He does know all! shouted I, springing forward, and tear- 
ing down the tatties from the window. Mrs. Jow. ran shrieking 
out of the room, Julia fainted, the cursed black children squalled, 
and their d — d nurse fell on her knees, gabbling some infernal 
jargon of Hindustanee. Old Jowler at this juncture entered 
with a candle and a drawn sword. 

“ Liar ! scoundrel ! deceiver ! ” shouted I. “ Turn, ruffian, 
and defend yourself!” But old Jowler, when he saw me, 
only whistled, looked at his lifeless daughter, and slowly left 
the room. 

Why continue the tale ? I need not now account for Jow- 
ier’s gloom on receiving his letters from Benares — for his ex- 


OF MAJOR G A HAG AM. 


*53 

clamation upon the death of the Indian chief — for his desire to 
marry his daughter . the woman I was wooing was no longer 
Miss Julia Jowler, she was Mrs. Chowder Loll I 


Chapter II. 

ALLYGHUR AND LASWAREE. 

I sat down to write gravely and sadly, for (since the appear- 
ance of some of my adventures in a monthly magazine) un- 
principled men have endeavored to rob me of the only good 
I possess, to question the statements that I make, and, them- 
selves without a spark of honor or good feeling, to steal from 
me that which is my sole wealth — my character as a teller of 

THE TRUTH. 

The reader will understand that it is to the illiberal stric- 
tures of a profligate press I now allude ; among the London 
journalists, none (luckily for themselves) have dared to ques- 
tion the veracity of my statements : they know me, and they 
know that I am in London. If I can use the pen, I can also 
wield a more manly and terrible weapon, and would answer 
their contradictions with my sword ! No gold or gems adorn 
the hilt of that war-worn scimitar ; but there is blood upon the 
blade — the blood of the enemies of my country, and the malign- 
ers of my honest fame. There are others, however — the dis- 
grace of a disgraceful trade — who, borrowing from distance a 
despicable courage, have ventured to assail me. The infamous 
editors of the Kelso Champion, the Bungay Beacon, the Tipperary 
Argus , and the Stoke Pogis Sentinel \ and other dastardly organs 
of the provincial press, have, although differing in politics, 
agreed upon this one point, and, with a scoundrelly unanimity, 
vented a flood of abuse upon the revelations made by me. 

They say that I have assailed private characters, and wil- 
fully perverted history to blacken the reputation of public men. 
I ask, was any one of these men in Bengal in the year 1803 ? 
Was any single conductor of any one of these paltry prints ever 
in Bundelcund or the Rohilla country ? Does this exquisite 
Tipperary scribe know the difference between Hurrygurrybang 
and Burrumtollah ? Not he ! and because, forsooth, in those 
strange and distant lands strange circumstances have taken 
place, it is insinuated that the relater is a liar : nay, that the 
very places themselves have no existence but in my imaging 


*54 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


tion. Fools ! — but I will not waste my anger upon them, and 
proceed to recount some other portions of my personal his- 
tory. 

It is, I presume, a fact which even these scribbling assassins 
will not venture to deny, that before the commencement of the 
campaign against Scindiah, the English General formed a camp 
at Kanouge on the Jumna, where he exercised that brilliant 
little army which was speedily to perform such wonders in the 
Dooab. It will be as well to give a slight account of the 
causes of a war which was speedily to rage through some of the 
fairest portions of the Indian continent. 

Shah Allum, the son of Shah Lollum, the descendant by 
the female line of Nadir Shah (that celebrated Toorkomaun 
adventurer, who had wellnigh hurled Bajazet and Selim the 
Second from the throne of Bagdad) — Shah Allum, I say, al- 
though nominally the Emperor of Delhi, was in reality the slave 
of the various warlike chieftains who lorded it by turns over 
the country and the sovereign, until conquered and slain by 
some more successful rebel. Chowder Loll Masolgee, Zubber- 
dust Khan, Dowsunt Row Scindiah, and the celebrated Bob- 
bachy Jung Bahawder, had held for a time complete mastery in 
Delhi. The second of these, a ruthless Afghan soldier, had 
abruptly entered the capital ; nor was he ejected from it until 
he had seized upon the principal jewels, and likewise put out 
the eyes of the last of the unfortunate family of Afrasiab. 
Scindiah came to the rescue of the sightless Shah Allum, and 
though he destroyed his oppressor, only increased his slavery ; 
holding him in as painful a bondage as he had suffered under 
the tyrannous Afghan. 

As long as these heroes were battling among themselves, or 
as long rather as it appeared that they had any strength to fight 
a battle, the British Government, ever anxious to see its ene- 
mies by the ears, by no means interfered in the contest. But 
the French Revolution broke out, and a host of starving sans- 
culottes appeared among the various Indian States, seeking for 
military service, and inflaming the minds of the various native 
princes against the British East India Company. A number of 
these entered into Scindiah’s ranks : one of them, Perron, was 
commander of his army ; and though that chief was as yet 
quite engaged in his hereditary quarrel with JeswuntRow Hol- 
kar, and never thought of an invasion of the British territory, 
the Company all of a sudden discovered that Shah Allum, his 
sovereign, was shamefully ill-used, and determined to re-estab- 
lish the ancient splendor of his throne. 


OF MAJOR G A HAG AM 


*55 

Of course it was sheer benevolence for poor Shah Allum 
that prompted our governors to take these kindly measures in 
his favor. I don’t know how it happened that, at the end of 
the war, the poor Shah was not a whit better off than at the 
beginning ; and that though Holkar was beaten, and Scindiah 
annihilated, Shah Allum was much such a puppet as before. 
Somehow, in the hurry and confusion of this struggle, the oyster 
remained with the British Government, who had so kindly of- 
fered to dress it for the Emperor, while his Majesty was obliged 
to be contented with the shell. 

The force encamped at Kanouge bore the title of the Grand 
Army of the Ganges and the Jumna; it consisted of eleven 
regiments of cavalry and twelve battalions of infantry, and was 
commanded by General Lake in person. 

Well, on the ist of September we stormed Perron’s camp 
at Allyghur ; on the fourth we took that fortress by assault ; 
and as my name was mentioned in general orders, I may as 
well quote the Commander-in-Chief’s words regarding me — they 
will spare me the trouble of composing my own eulogium : — 

“ The Commander-in-Chief is proud thus publicly to de- 
clare his high sense of the gallantry of Lieutenant Gahagan, of 
the cavalry. In the storming of the fortress, although un- 

provided with a single ladder, and accompanied but by a few 
brave men, Lieutenant Gahagan succeeded in escalading the 
inner and fourteenth wall of the place. Fourteen ditches lined 
with sword-blades and poisoned chevaux-de-frise, fourteen walls 
bristling with innumerable artillery and as smooth as looking- 
glasses, were in turn triumphantly passed by that enterprising 
officer. His course was to be traced by the heaps of slaugh- 
tered enemies lying thick upon the platforms ; and alas ! by the 
corpses of most of the gallant men who followed him ! — when 
at length he effected his lodgment, and the dastardly enemy, 
who dared not to confront him with arms, let loose upon him 
the tigers and lions of Scindiah’s mdnagerie. This meritorious 
officer destroyed, with his own hand, four of the largest and 
most ferocious animals, and the rest, awed by the indomitable 
majesty of British valor, shrank back to their dens. Thomas 
Higgory, a private, and Runty Goss, havildar, were the only 
two who remained out of the nine hundred who followed Lieu- 
tenant Gahagan. Honor to them ! Honor and tears for the 
brave men who perished on that awful day ! ’’ 

***** 

I have copied this, word for word, from the Bengal Burkaru 
of September 24, 1803 : and anybody who has the slightest 
doubt as to the statement, may refer to the paper itself. 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


*56 


And here I must pause to give thanks to Fortune, which so 
marvellously preserved me, Sergeant-Major Higgory, and Runty 
Goss. Were I to say that any valor of ours had carried us un- 
hurt through this tremendous combat, the reader would laugh 
me to scorn. No : though my narrative is extraordinary, it is 
nevertheless authentic ; and never, never would I sacrifice truth 
for the mere sake of effect. The fact is this : — the citadel of 
Allyghur is situated upon a rock, about a thousand feet above 
the level of the sea, and is surrounded by fourteen walls, as his 
Excellency was good enough to remark in his despatch. A 
man who would mount these without scaling-ladders, is an ass ; 
he who would say he mounted them without such assistance, is 
a liar and a knave. We had scaling-ladders at the commence- 
ment of the assault, although it was quite impossible to carry 
them beyond the first line of batteries. Mounted on them, 
however, as our troops were falling thick about me, I saw that 
we must ignominiously retreat, unless some other help could be 
found for our brave fellows to escalade the next wall. It was 
about seventy feet high. I instantly turned the guns of wall 
A on wall B, and peppered the latter so as to make, not a breach, 
but a scaling place ; the men mounting in the holes made by 
the shot. By this simple stratagem, I managed to pass each 
successive barrier — for to ascend a wall which the General was 
pleased to call “ as smooth as glass ” is an absurd impossi- 
bility : I seek to achieve none such : — 

“ I dare do all that may become a man, 

Who dares do more, is neither more nor less.** 


Of course, had the enemy’s guns been commonly well 
served, not one of us would ever have been alive out of the 
three ; but whether it was owing to fright, or to the excessive 
smoke caused by so many pieces of artillery, arrive we did. 
On the platforms, too, our work was not quite so difficult as 
might be imagined — killing these fellows was sheer butchery. 
As soon as we appeared, they all turned and fled helter-skelter, 
and the reader may judge of their courage by the fact that out 
of about seven hundred men killed by us, only forty had 
wounds in front, the rest being bayoneted as they ran. 

And beyond all other pieces of good fortune was the very 
letting out of these tigers ; which was the dernier resort of Bour- 
nonville, the second commandant of the fort. I had observed 
this man (conspicuous for a tri-colored scarf which he wore) 
upon every one of the walls as we stormed them, and running 
away the very first among the fugitives. He had all the keys 


OF MAJOR G A HAGAN 


*57 


of the gates ; and in his tremor, as he opened the mdnagerie 
portal, left the whole bunch in the door, which I seized when 
the animals were overcome. Runty Goss then opened them 
one by one, our troops entered, and the victorious standard of 
my country floated on the walls of Allyghur ! 

When the General, accompanied by his staff, entered the 
last line of fortifications, the brave old man raised me from the 
dead rhinoceros on which I was seated, and pressed me to hif 
breast. But the excitement which had borne me through the 
fatigues and perils of that fearful day failed all of a sudden, 
and I wept like a child upon his shoulder. 

Promotion, in our army, goes unluckily by seniority ; nor is 
it in the power of the General-in-Chief to advance a Caesar, if 
he finds him in the capacity of a subaltern ; my reward for the 
above exploit was, therefore, not very rich. His Excellency 
had a favorite horn snuff-box (for, though exalted in station, he 
was in his habits most simple) : of this, and about a quarter of 
an ounce of high-dried Welsh, which he always took, he made 
me a present, saying, in front of the line, “ Accept this, Mr. 
Gahagan, as a token of respect from the first to the bravest 
officer in the army.” 

Calculating the snuff to be worth a halfpenny, I should say 
that fourpence was about the value of this gift : but it has at 
least this good effect — it serves to convince any person who 
doubts my story, that the facts of it are really true. I have left 
it at the office of my publisher, along with the extract from the 
Bengal Hurkaru , and anybody may examine both by applying 
in the counting-house of Mr. Cunningham.* That once popu- 
lar expression, or proverb, “ Are you up to snuff ? ” arose out 
of the above circumstance ; for the officers of my corps, none 
of whom, except myself, had ventured on the storming-party, 
used to twit me about this modest reward for my labors. 
Never mind ! when they want me to storm a fort again , I shall 
know better. 

Well, immediately after the capture of this important for- 
tress, Perron, who had been the life and soul of Scindiah’s 
army, came in to us, with his family and treasure, and was 
passed over to the French settlements at Chandernagur. Bour- 
quien took his command, and against him we now moved. The 
morning of the nth of September found us upon the plains of 
Delhi. 

* The Major certainly offered to leave an old snuff-box at Mr. Cunningham’s office ; 
but it contained no extract from a newspaper, and does not quite prove that he killed a 
rhinoceros and stormed fourteen intrenchments at the siege of Allyghur. 

II 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


* 5 * 


It was a burning hot day, and we were all refreshing our- 
selves after the morning’s march, when I, who was on the ad- 
vanced piquet along with O’Gawler of the King’s Dragoons, 
was made aware of the enemy’s neighborhood in a very singu- 
lar manner. O’Gawler and I were seated under a little canopy 
of horse-cloths, which we had formed to shelter us from the 
intolerable heat of the sun, and were discussing with great 
delight a few Manilla cheroots, and a stone jar of the most ex- 
quisite, cool, weak, refreshing sangaree. We had been playing 
cards the night before, and O’Gawler had lost to me seven 
hundred rupees. I emptied the last of the sangaree into the 
two pint tumblers out of which we were drinking, and holding 
mine up, said, “ Here’s better luck to you next time, O’Gaw- 
ler ! ” 

As I spoke the words — whish ! — a cannon-ball cut the tum- 
bler clean out of my hand, and plumped into poor O’Gawler’s 
stomach. It settled him completely, and of course I never got 
my seven hundred rupees. Such are the uncertainties of war ! 

To strap on my sabre and my accoutrements — to mount my 
Arab charger — to drink off what O’Gawler had left of the san- 
garee — and to gallop to the General, was the work of a moment. 
I found him as comfortably at tiffin as if he were at his own 
house in London. 

“ General,” said I, as soon as I got into his paijamahs (or 
tent), “ you must leave your lunch if you want to fight the 
enemy.” 

“ The enemy — psha ! Mr. Gahagan, the enemy is on the 
other side of the river.” 

“ I can only tell your Excellency that the enemy’s guns will 
hardly carry five miles, and that Cornet O’Gawler was this 
moment shot dead at my side with a cannon-ball.” 

“ Ha! is it so?” said his Excellency, rising, and laying 
down the drumstick of a grilled chicken. “Gentlemen, re- 
member that the eyes of Europe are upon us, and follow me ! ” 

Each aide-de-camp started from table and seized his cocked 
hat ; each British heart beat high at the thoughts of the coming 
melee . We mounted our horses, and galloped swiftly after the 
brave old General ; I not the last in the train, upon my famous 
black charger. 

It was perfectly true, the enemy were posted in force within 
three miles of our camp, and from a hillock in the advance to 
which we galloped,' we were enabled with our telescopes to see 
the whole of his imposing line. Nothing can better describe it 
than this : — 


OF MAJOR G AHA GAN. 


*59 




• — A is the enemy, and the dots represent the hundred and 
twenty pieces of artillery which defended his line. He was, 
moreover, intrenched ; and a wide morass in his front gave him 
an additional security. 

His Excellency for a moment surveyed the line, and then 
said, turning round to one of his aides-de-camp, “ Order up 
Major-General Tinkler and the cavalry.” 

“ Here, does your Excellency mean ? ” said the aide-de- 
camp, surprised, for the enemy had perceived us, and the 
cannon-balls were flying about as thick as peas. 

“Here, sir!” said the old General, stamping with his foot 
in a passion, and the A. D. C. shrugged his shoulders and 
galloped away. In five minutes we heard the trumpets in our 
camp, and in twenty more the greater part of the cavalry had 
joined us. 

Up they came, five thousand men, their standards flapping 
in the air, their long line of polished jack-boots gleaming in the 
golden sunlight. “ And now we are here,” said Major-General 

Sir Theophilus Tinkler, “what next?” “Oh, d it,” said 

the Commander-in-Chief, “ charge, charge — nothing like charg- 
ing — galloping — guns — rascally black scoundrels — charge, 
charge ! ” And then turning round to me (perhaps he was 
glad to change the conversation), he said, “ Lieutenant Gaha- 
gan, you will stay with me.” 

And well for him I did, for I do not hesitate to say that the 
battle was gained by me. I do not mean to insult the reader by 
pretending that any personal exertions of mine turned the day, 
— that I killed, for instance, a regiment of cavalry or swallowed 
a battery of guns, — such absurd tales would disgrace both the 
hearer and the teller. I, as is well known, never say a single 
word which cannot be proved, and hate more than all other 
vices the absurd sin of egotism ; I simply mean that my advice 
to the General, at a quarter past two o’clock in the afternoon 
of that day, won this great triumph for the British army. 

Gleig, Mill and Thorn have all told the tale of this war, 
though somehow they have omitted all mention of the hero of 
it. General Lake, for the victory of that day, became Lord 
Lake of Laswaree. Laswaree ! and who, forsooth, was the 



160 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 

real conqueror of Laswaree? I can lay my hand upon my 
heart and say that / was. If any proof is wanting of the fact, 
let me give it at once, and from the highest military testimony 
in the world — I mean that of the Emperor Napoleon. 

In the month of March, 1817, I was a passenger on board 
the “ Prince Regent,” Captain Harris, which touched at St. 
Helena on its passage from Calcutta to England. In company 
with the other officers on board the ship, I paid my respects to 
the illustrious exile of Longwood, who received us in his garden, 
where he was walking about, in a nankeen dress, and a large 
broad-brimmed straw-hat, with General Montholon, Count Las 
Casas, and his son Emanuel, then a little boy ; who I dare say 
does not recollect me, but who nevertheless played with my 
sword-knot and the tassels of my Hessian boots during the 
whole of our interview with his Imperial Majesty. 

Our names were read out (in a pretty accent, by the way !) 
by General Montholon, and the Emperor, as each was pro- 
nounced, made a bow to the owner of it, but did not vouchsafe 
a word. At last Montholon came to mine. The Emperor 
looked me at once in the face, took his hands out of his pockets, 
put them behind his back, and coming up to me smiling, pro- 
nounced the following words : — 

“ Assaye, Delhi, Deeg, Futtyghur ? ” 

I blushed, and taking off my hat with a bow, said — Sire, 
c’est moi.” 

“ Parbleu ! je le savais bien,” said the Emperor, holding 
out his snuff-box. “ En usez-vous, Major ? ” I took a large 
pinch (which, with the honor of speaking to so great a man, 
brought the tears into my eyes), and he continued as nearly as 
possible in the following words 

“ Sir, you are known ; you come of an heroic nation. Your 
third brother, the Chef de Bataillon, Count Godfrey Gahagan, 
was in my Irish brigade.” 

Gahagan. — “ Sire, it is true. He and my countrymen in 
your Majesty’s service stood under the green flag in the breach 
of Burgos, and beat Wellington back. It was the only time, 
as your Majesty knows, that Irishmen and Englishmen were 
beaten in that war.” 

Napoleon (looking as if he would say, “ D — your candor, 
Major Gahagan ”). — “ Well, well ; it was so. Your brother was 
a Count, and died a General in my service.” 

Gahagan. — “ He was found lying upon the bodies of nine 
and-twenty Cossacks at Borodino. They were all dead, and 
bore the Gahagan mark.” 

Napoleon (to Montholon). — “ C’est vrai, Montholon : je vous 


OF MAJOR GATT AG AN. 


161 

donne ma parole d’honneur la plus sacree, que c’est vrai. Us 
ne sont pas d’autres, ces terribles Ga’gans. You must know 
that Monsieur gained the battle of Delhi as certainly as I did 
that of Austerlitz. In this way : — Ce belitre de Lor Lake, after 
calling up his cavalry, and placing them in front of Holkar’s 
batteries, qui balayient la plaine, was for charging the enemy’s 
batteries with his horse, who would have been dcrasds, mitrail- 
les, foudroyes to a man but for the cunning of ce grand rogue 
que vous voyez.” 

Montholon . — “ Coquin de Major, va ! ” 

Napoleon. — “ Montholon ! tais-toi. When Lord Lake, with 
his great bulbheaded English obstinacy, saw the fdcheuse 
position into which he had brought his troops, he was for dying 
on the spot, and would infallibly have done so — and the loss of 
his army would have been the ruin of the East India Company 
— and the ruin of the English East India Company would have 
established my empire (bah ! it was a republic then !) in the 
East — but that the man before us, Lieutenant Goliah Gahagan, 
was riding at the side of General Lake.” 

Montholo?i (with an accent of despair and fury). — “ Gredin ! 
cent mille tonnerres de Dieu ! ” 

Napoleon (benignantly). — “ Calme-toi, mon fidble ami. What 
will you ? It was fate. Gahagan, at the critical period of the 
battle, or rather slaughter (for the English had not slain a man 
of the enemy), advised a retreat.” 

Montholon. — “ Le lache ! Un Frangais meurt, mais il ne 
recule jamais.” 

Napoleon. — “ Stupide ! Don’t you see why the retreat was 
ordered ? — don’t you know that it was a feint on the part of 
Gahagan to draw Holkar from his impregnable intrenchments ? 
Don’t you know that the ignorant Indian fell into the snare, 
anil issuing from behind the cover of his guns, came down with 
his cavalry on the plains in pursuit of Lake and his dragoons ? 
Then it was that the Englishmen turned upon him ; the hardy 
children of the north swept down his feeble horsemen, bore 
them back to their guns, which were useless, entered Holkar’s 
intrenchments along with his troops, sabred the artillerymen at 
their pieces, and won the battle of Delhi ! ” 

As the Emperor spoke, his pale cheek glowed red, his 
eye flashed fire, his deep clear voice rung as of old when he 
pointed out the enemy from beneath the shadow of the Pyra- 
mids, or rallied his regiments to the charge upon the death- 
strewn plains of Wagram. I have had many a proud moment 
in my life but never such a proud one as this ; and I would 


162 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


readily pardon the word “ coward/’ as applied to me by Mon- 
tholon, in consideration of the testimony which his master bore 
in my favor. 

“ Major,” said the Emperor to me in conclusion, “why had 
I not such a man as you in my service ? I would have made 
you a Prince and a Marshal ! ” and here he fell into a reverie, 
of which I knew and respected the purport. He was thinking, 
doubtless, that I might have retrieved his fortunes ; and indeed 
I have very little doubt that I might. 

Very soon after, coffee was brought by Monsieur Marchand, 
Napoleon’s valet de chambre, and after partaking of that bever- 
age, and talking upon the politics of the day, the Emperor 
withdrew, leaving me deeply impressed by the condescension 
he had shown in this remarkable interview. 


Chapter III. 

A PEEP INTO SPAIN — ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN AND SERVICES OF 
THE AHMEDNUGGAR IRREGULARS. 

Head- Quarters, Morelia , Sept . I$tk t 1838 . 

I have been here for some months, along with my young 
friend Cabrera : and in the hurry and bustle of war — daily on 
guard and in the batteries for sixteen hours out of the twenty- 
four, with fourteen severe wounds and seven musket-balls in 
my body — it may be imagined that I have had little time to 
think about the publication of my memoirs. Inter arma silent 
leges — in the midst of fighting be hanged to writing ! as the 
poet says ; and I never would have bothered myself with a pen, 
had not common gratitude incited me to throw off a few pages. 

Along with Oraa’s troops, who have of late been beleaguer- 
ing this place, there was a young Milesian gentleman, Mr. 
Toone O’Connor Emmett Fitzgerald Sheeny, by name, a law 
student, and member of Gray’s Inn, and what he called Bay Ah 
of Trinity College, Dublin. Mr. Sheeny was with the Queen’s 
people, not in a military capacity, but as representative of an 
English journal ; to which, for a trifling weekly remuneration, 
he was in the habit of transmitting accounts of the movements 
of the belligerents, and his own opinion of the politics of Spain. 
Receiving, for the discharge of his duty, a couple of guineas a 
week from the proprietors of the journal in question, he was 
enabled, as I need scarcely say, to make such a show in Oraa’s 
camp as only a Christino general officer, or at the very least a 
colonel of a regiment, can afford to keep up. 


OF MAJOR GAMA GAM. 


163 

In the famous sortie which we made Upon the twenty-third, 
I was of course among the foremost in the melee , and found my- 
self, after a good deal of slaughtering (which it would be as dis- 
agreeable as useless to describe here), in the court of a small 
inn or podesta, which had been made the head-quarters of 
several Queenite officers during the siege. The pesatero or 
landlord of the inn had been despatched by my brave chapel- 
churies, with his fine family of children — the officers quartered 
in the podesta had of course bolted ; but one man remained, 
and my fellows were on the point of cutting him into ten 
thousand pieces with their borachios, when I arrived in the 
room time enough to prevent the catastrophe. Seeing before 
me an individual in the costume of a civilian — a white hat, a 
light-blue satin cravat, embroidered with butterflies and other 
quadrupeds, a green coat and brass buttons, and a pair of blue 
plaid trousers, I recognized at once a countryman, and inter- 
posed to save his life. 

In an agonized brogue the unhappy young man was saying 
all that he could to induce the chapel-churies to give up their 
intention of slaughtering him ; but it is very little likely that 
his protestations would have had any effect upon them, had not 
I appeared in the room, and shouted to the ruffians to hold 
their hand. 

Seeing a general officer before them (I have the honor to 
hold that rank in the service of his Catholic Majesty), and 
moreover one six feet four in height, and armed with that 
terrible cabecilla (a sword so called, because it is five feet long) 
which is so well known among the Spanish armies — seeing, I 
say, this figure, the fellows retired, exclaiming, “ Adios , corpo di 
bacco , nosotros ,” and so on, clearly proving (by their words) that 
they would, if they dared, have immolated the victim whom I 
had thus rescued from theirfury. “ Villains ! ” shouted I, hear- 
ing them grumble, “ away ! quit the apartment ! ” Each man, 
sulkily sheathing his sombrero, obeyed, and quitted the cama- 
rilla. 

It was then that Mr. Sheeny detailed to me the particulars 
to which I have briefly adverted ; and, informing me at the 
same time that he had a family in England who would feel 
obliged to me for his release, and that his most intimate friend 
the English ambassador would move heaven and earth to 
revenge his fall, he directed my attention to a portmanteau 
passably well filled, which he hoped would satisfy the cupidity 
of my troops. I said, though with much regret, that I must 
subject his person to a search ; and hence arose the circum- 
stance which has called for what I fear you will consider a 


r 6 4 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 

somewhat tedious explanation. I found upon Mr. Sheeny’s 
person three sovereigns in English money (which I have to this 
day), and singularly enough a copy of The New Mofithly 
Magazine, containing a portion of my adventures. It was a 
toss-up whether I should let the poor young man be shot or no, 
but this little circumstance saved his life. The gratified vanity 
of authorship induced me to accept his portmanteau and 
valuables, and to allow the poor wretch to go free. I put the 
Magazine in my coat-pocket, and left him and the podesta. 

The men, to my surprise, had quitted the building, and it 
was full time for me to follow ; for I found our sallying party, 
after committing dreadful ravages in Oraa’s lines, were in full 
retreat upon the fort, hotly pressed by a superior force of the 
enemy. I am pretty well known and respected by the men of 
both parties in Spain (indeed I served for some months on the 
Queen’s side before I came over to Don Carlos) ; and, as it is 
my maxim never to give quarter, I never expect to receive it 
when taken myself. On issuing from the podesta with Sheeny’s 
portmanteau and my sword in my hand, I was a little disgusted 
and annoyed to see our own men in a pretty good column 
retreating at double-quick, and about four hundred yards beyond 
me, up the hill leading to the fort ; while on my left hand, and 
at only a hundred yards, a troop of the Queenite lancers were 
clattering along the road. 

I had got into the very middle of the road before I made 
this discovery, so that the fellows had a full sight of me, and 
whizz ! came a bullet by my left whisker before I could say 
Jack Robinson. I looked round — there were seventy of the 
accursed malvados at the least, and within, as I said, a hundred 
yards. Were I to say that I stopped to fight seventy men, you 
would write me down a fool or a liar : no, sir, I did not fight, I 
ran away. 

I am six feet four — my figure is as well known in the 
Spanish army as that of the Count de Luchana, or my fierce 
little friend Cabrera himself. “ Gahagan ! ” shouted out half 
a dozen scoundrelly voices, and fifty more shots came rattling 
after me. I was running — running as the brave stag before the 
hounds — running as I have done a great number of times 
before in my life, when there was no help for it but a race. 

After I had run about five hundred yards, I saw that I had 
gained nearly three upon our column in front, and that likewise 
the Christino horsemen were left behind some hundred yards 
more ; with the exception of three, who were fearfully near me. 
The first was an officer without a lance ; he had fired both his 
pistols at me, and was twenty yards in advance of his comrades ; 


OF MAJOR GAMA GAM. 


i6 5 

there was a similar distance between the two lancers who rode 
behind him. I determined then to wait for No. i, and as he 
came up delivered cut 3 at his horse’s near leg — off it flew, and 
down, as I expected, went horse and man. I had hardly time 
to pass my sword through my prostrate enemy, when, No 2 
was upon me. If I could but get that fellows’ horse, thought 
I, I am safe ; and I executed at once the plan which I hoped 
was to effect my rescue. 

I had, as I said, left the podesta with Sheeny’s portmanteau, 
and, unwilling to part with some of the articles it contained — • 
some shirts, a bottle of whiskey, a few cakes of Windsor soap, 
&c., &c. — I had carried it thus far on my shoulders, but now 
was compelled to sacrifice it malgr'e moi. As the lancer came 
up, I dropped my sword from my right hand, and hurled the 
portmanteau at his head, with aim so true, that he fell back on 
his saddle like a sack, and thus when the horse galloped up to 
me, I had no difficulty in dismounting the rider : the whiskey- 
bottle struck him over his right eye, and he was completely 
stunned. To dash him from the saddle and spring myself into 
it, was the work of a moment ; indeed, the two combats had 
taken place in about a fifth part of the time which it has taken 
the reader to peruse the description. But in the rapidity of 
the last encounter, and the mounting of my enemy’s horse, I 
had committed a very absurd oversight — I was scampering away 
without my sword ! What was I to do ? — to scamper on, to be 
sure, and trust to the legs of my horse for safety ! 

The lancer behind me gained on me every moment, and I 
could hear his horrid laugh as he neared me. I leaned forward 
jockey fashion in my saddle, and kicked, and urged, and flogged 
with my hand, but all in vain. Closer — closer — the point of 
his lance was within two feet of my back. Ah ! ah ! he delivered 
the point, and fancy my agony when I felt it enter — through 
exactly fifty-nine pages of the New Monthly Magazine . Had it 
not been for that Magazine, I should have been impaled with- 
out a shadow of a doubt. Was I wrong in feeling gratitude ? 
Had I not cause to continue my contributions to that peri- 
odical ! 

When I got safe into Morelia, along with the tail of the 
sallying party, I was for the first time made acquainted with the 
ridiculous result of the lancer’s thrust (as he delivered his lance, 
I must tell you that a ball came whizz over my head from our 
fellows, and entering at his nose, put a stop to his lancing for 
the future). I hastened to' Cabrera’s quarter, and related to 
him some of my adventures during the day. 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


1 66 

“ But, General,” said he, you are standing. I beg you 
chiu dete Tits do (take a chair).” 

I did so, and then for the first time was aware that there 
was some foreign subtance in the tail of my coat, which pre- 
vented my sitting at ease. I drew out the Magazine which I 
had seized, and there, to my wonder, discovered ihe Christine 
lance twisted up like a fish-hook, or a pastoral crook. 

“ Ha ! ha ! ha ! ” said Cabrera (who is a notorious wag). 

“ Valdepenas madrilenos,” growled out Tristany. 

“ By my cachuca di caballero (upon my honor as a gentle- 
man),” shrieked out Ros d’Eroles, convulsed with laughter, “ I 
will send it to the Bishop of Leon for a crozier.” 

“ Gahagan has consecrated it,” giggled out Ramon Cabrera ; 
and so they went on with their muchacas for an hour or more. 
But, when they heard that the means of my salvation from the 
lance of the scoundrelly Christino had been the Magazine 
containing my own history, their laugh was changed into wonder. 
I read them (speaking Spanish more fluently than English) 
every word of my story. “ But how is this ? ” said Cabrera. 
“ You surely have other adventures to relate? ” 

“ Excellent Sir,” said I, “ I have ;” and that very evening, 
as we sat over our cups of tertullia (sangaree) r I continued my 
narrative in nearly the following words : — 

“ I left off in the very middle of the battle of Delhi, which 
ended, as everybody knows, in the complete triumph of the 
British arms. But who gained the battle ? Lord Lake is called 
Viscount Lake of Delhi and Laswaree, while Major Gaha — 
nonsense, never mind him, never mind the charge he executed 
when, sabre in hand, he leaped the six-foot wall in the mouth 
of the roaring cannon, over the heads of the gleaming pikes ; 
when, with one hand seizing the sacred peisheush, or fish — 
which was the banner always borne before Scindiah, — he, with 
his good sword, cut off the trunk of the famous white elephant, 
which, shrieking with agony, plunged madly into the Mahratta 
ranks, followed by his giant brethren, tossing, like chaff before 
the wind, the affrighted kitmatgars. He, meanwhile, now 
plunging into the midst of a battalion of consomahs, now 
cleaving to the chine a screaming and ferocious bobbachee,* 
rushed on, like the simoom across the red Zaharan plain, killing, 

with his own hand, a hundred and forty-thr but never mind 

— 4 alone he did it ; ’ sufficient be it for him, however, that the 

* The double-jointed camel of Bactria, which the classic reader may recollect is men- 
tioned by Suidas (in his Commentary on the Flight •{ Darius), is so called by thf 
Mahrattas. 


OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. 167 

victory was won : he cares not for the empty honors which were 
awarded to more fortunate men ! 

“ We marched after the battle to Delhi, where poor blind 
old Shah Allum received us, and bestowed all kinds of honors 
and titles on our General. As each of the officers passed 
before him, the Shah did not fail to remark my person,* and 
was told my name. 

“ Lord Lake whispered to him my exploits, and the old man 
was so delighted with the account of my victory over the 
elephant (whose trunk I use to this day), that he said, t Let him 
be called Gujputi,’ or the lord of elephants ; and Gujputi was 
the name by which I was afterwards familiarly known among 
the natives, — the men, that is. The women had a softer appel- 
lation for me, and called me ‘ Mushook,’ or charmer. 

“ Well, I shall not describe Delhi, which is doubtless well 
known to the reader ; nor the siege of Agra, to which place we 
went from Delhi ; nor the terrible day at Laswaree, which went 
nigh to finish the war. Suffice it to say that we were victori- 
ous, and that I was wounded ; as I have invariably been in the 
two hundred and four occasions when I have found myself in 
action. One point, however, became in the course of this cam- 
paign quite evident — that something must be done for Gahagan. 
The country cried shame, the King’s troops grumbled, the sepoys 
openly murmured that their Gujputi was only a lieutenant, when 
he had performed such signal services. What was to be done ? 
Lord Wellesley was in an evident quandary. ‘ Gahagan/ wrote 
he, ‘ to be a subaltern is evidently not your fate — you were born 
for command ; but Lake and General Wellesley are good officers, 
they cannot be turned out — I must make a post for you. What 
say you, my dear fellow, to a corps of irregular horse l ’ 

“ It was thus that the famous corps of Ahmednuggar 
Irregulars had its origin ; a guerilla force, it is true, but one 
which will long be remembered in the annals of our Indian 
campaigns. 

***** 

“ As the commander of this regiment, I was allowed to settle 
the uniform of the corps, as well as to select recruits. These 
were not wanting as soon as my appointment was made known, 
but came flocking to my standard a great deal faster than to 
the regular corps in the Company’s service. I had European 
officers, of course, to command them, and a few of my country- 

> * There is some trifling inconsistency on the Major’s part. > Shah Allum was notoriously 
blind ; how, then, could he have seen Gahagan ? The thing is manifestly impossible. 


1 68 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


men as sergeants ; the rest were all natives, whom I chose of 
the strongest and bravest men in India : chiefly Pitans, Afghans, 
Hurrumzadehs, and Calliawns : for these are well known to 
be the most warlike districts of our Indian territory. 

“ When on parade and in full uniform we made a singular 
and noble appearance. I was always fond of dress ; and, 
in this instance, gave a carte blanche to my taste, and invented 
the most splendid costume that ever perhaps decorated a sol- 
dier. I am, as I have stated already, six feet four inches in 
height, and of matchless symmetry and proportion. My hair 
and beard are of the most brilliant auburn, so bright as scarcely 
to be distinguished at a distance from scarlet. My eyes are 
bright blue, overshadowed by bushy eyebrows of the color of 
my hair, and a terrific gash of the deepest purple, which goes 
over the forehead, the eyelid, and the cheek, and finishes at 
the ear, gives my face a more strictly military appearance than 
can be conceived. When I have been drinking (as is pretty 
often the case) this gash becomes ruby bright, and as I have 
another which took off a piece of my under-lip, and shows five 
of my front teeth, I leave you to imagine that 4 seldom lighted 
on the earth 9 (as the monster Burke remarked of one of his 
unhappy victims) 4 a more extraordinary vision.’ I improved 
these natural advantages ; and, while in cantonment during the 
hot winds at Chitty-bobbary, allowed my hair to grow very long, 
as did my beard, which reached to my waist. It took me two 
hours daily to curl my hair in ten thousand little cork-screw 
ringlets, which waved over my shoulders, and to get my mus- 
taches well round to the corners of my eyelids. I dressed in 
loose scarlet trousers and red morocco boots, a scarlet jacket, 
and a shawl of the same color round my waist ; a scarlet turban 
three feet high, and decorated with a tuft of the scarlet feathers 
of the flamingo, formed my head-dress, and I did not allow myself 
a single ornament, except a small silver skull and cross-bones 
in front of my turban. Two brace of pistols, a Malay creese, 
and a tulwar, sharp on both sides, and very nearly six feet in 
length, completed this elegant costume. My two flags were 
each surmounted with a real skull and cross-bones, and orna- 
mented, one with a black, and the other with a red beard (of 
enormous length, taken from men slain in battle by me). On 
one flag were of course the arms of John Company; on the 
other, an image of myself bestriding a prostrate elephant, with 
the simple word 4 Gujputi ’ written underneath in the Nagaree, 
Persian and Sanscrit characters. I rode my black horse, and 
looked, by the immortal gods, like Mars. To me might be 


OF MAJOR GAMA GAM. jfy 

applied the words which were written concerning handsome 
General Webb, In Marlborough’s time ; — 

“ * To noble danger he conducts the way. 

His great example all his troop obey, 

Before the front the Major sternly rides, 

With such an air as Mars to battle strides. 

Propitious heaven must sure a hero save 
Like Paris handsome, and like Hector brave !* 

“ My officers (Captains Biggs and Mackanulty, Lieutenants 
Glogger, Pappendick, Stuffle, &c., &c.,) were dressed exactly in 
the same way, but in yellow ; and the men were similarly 
equipped, but in black. I have seen many regiments since, 
and many ferocious-looking men, but the Ahmednuggar Irregu- 
lars were more dreadful to the view than any set of ruffians on 
which I ever set eyes. I would to heaven that the Czar of 
Muscovy had passed through Cabool and Lahore, and that I 
with my old Ahmednuggars stood on a fair field to meet him ! 
Bless you, bless you, my swart companions in victory ! through 
the mist of twenty years I hear the booming of your war-cry, 
and mark the glitter of your scimitars as ye rage in the thickest 
of the battle ! * 

“ But away with melancholy reminiscences. You may fancy 
what a figure the Irregulars cut on a field-day — a line of five 
hundred black-faced, black-dressed, black-horsed, black-bearded 
men — Biggs, Glogger, and the other officers in yellow, gal- 
loping about the field like flashes of lightning; myself en- 
lightening them, red, solitary, and majestic, like yon glorious 
orb in heaven. 

“ There are very few men, I presume, who have not heard 
of Holkar’s sudden and gallant incursion into the Dooab, in 
the year 1804, when we thought that the victory of Laswaree 
and the brilliant success at Deeg had completely finished him. 
Taking ten thousand horse he broke up his camp at Palimbang; 
and the first thing General Lake heard of him was, that he was 
at Putna, then at Rumpooge, then at Doncaradam — he was, in 
fact, in the very heart of our territory. 

“ The unfortunate part of the affair was this : — His Excel- 
lency, despising the Mahratta chieftain, had allowed him to 
advance about two thousand miles in his front, and knew not 
in the slightest degree where to lay hold on him. Was he at 
Hazarubaug ? was he at Bogly Gunge ? nobody knew, and 

* I do not wish to brag of my style of writing, or to pretend that my genius as a writer 
has not been equalled in former times; but if, in the works of Byron Scott, Goethe, or Vic- 
tor Hugo, the reader can find a more beautiful sentence than the above, I will be obliged to 
him, that is all — I simply say, ' will be obliged to him. — G. O’G. G., M. H. E. I. C. S* 

C. L H. A. 


170 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


for a considerable period the movements of Lake’s cavalry 
were quite ambiguous, uncertain, promiscuous, and undeter- 
mined. 

“ Such, briefly, was the state of affairs in October, 1804. 
At the beginning of that month I had been wounded (a trifling 
scratch, cutting off my left upper eyelid, a bit of my cheek, and 
my under-lip), and I was obliged to leave Biggs in command 
of my Irregulars whilst I retired for my wounds to an English 
station at Furruckabad, alias Futtyghur — it is, as every two- 
penny postman know r s, at the apex of the Dooab. We have 
there a cantonment, and thither I went for the mere sake of 
the surgeon and the sticking-plaster. 

“ Furruckabad, then, is divided into two districts or towns : 
the lower Cotwal, inhabited by the natives, and the upper 
(which is fortified slightly, and has all along been called Futty- 
ghur, meaning in Hindustanee ‘ the-favorite-resort-of-the-white- 
faced-Feringhees-near-the-mango-tope-consecrated-to-Ram’) oc- 
cupied by Europeans. (It is astonishing, by the way, how 
comprehensive that language is, and how much can be conveyed 
in one or two of the commonest phrases.) 

“ Biggs, then, and my men were playing all sorts of won- 
drous pranks with Lord Lake’s army, whilst I was detained an 
unwilling prisoner of health at Futtyghur. 

“ An unwilling prisoner, however, I should not say. The 
cantonment at Futtyghur contained that which would have 
made any man a happy slave. Woman, lovely woman, was 
there in abundance and variety ! The fact is, that, when the 
campaign commenced in 1803, the ladies of the army all con- 
gregated to this place, where they were left, as it was supposed, 
in safety. I might, like Homer, relate the names and qualities 
of all. I may at least mention some whose memory is still most 
dear to me. There was — 

“ Mrs. Major-General Bulcher, wife of Bulcher of the in- 
fantry. 

“ Miss Bulcher. 

“ Miss Belinda Bulcher (whose name I beg the printer to 
put in large capitals). 

“ Mrs. Colonel Vandegobbleschroy. 

“ Mrs. Major Macan and the four Misses Macan. 

“ The Honorable Mrs. Burgoo, Mrs. Flix, Hicks, Wicks, 
and many more too numerous to mention. The flower of our 
camp was, however, collected there, and the last words of 
Lord Lake to me, as I left him, were, ‘ Gahagan, I commit 
those women to your charge. Guard them with your life, watch 


OF MAJOR G A HA GAN, 171 

over them with your honor, defend them with the matchless 
power of your indomitable arm.” 

“ Futtyghur is, as I have said, a European station, and the 
pretty air of the bungalows, amid the clustering topes of mango- 
trees, has often ere this excited the admiration of the tourist 
and sketcher. On the brow of a hill — the Burrumpooter river 
rolls majestically at its base ; and no spot, in a word, can be 
conceived more exquisitely arranged, both by art and nature, 
as a favorite residence of the British fair. Mrs. Bulcher, Mrs. 
Vandegobbleschroy, and the other married ladies above men- 
tioned, had each of them delightful bungalows and gardens in 
the place, and between one cottage and another my time passed 
as delightfully as can the hours of any man who is away from 
his darling occupation of war. 

“ I was the commandant of the fort. It is a little insignif- 
icant pettah, defended simply by a couple of gabions, a very 
ordinary counterscarp, and a bomb-proof embrasure. On the 
top of this my flag was planted, and the small garrison of forty 
men only were comfortably barracked off in the casemates 
within. A surgeon and two chaplains (there were besides three 
reverend gentlemen of amateur missions, who lived in the 
town,) completed, as I may say, the garrison of our little fort- 
alice, which I was left to defend and to command. 

“ On the night of the first of November, in the year 1804, I 
had invited Mrs. Major-General Bulcher and her daughters, 
Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy, and, indeed, all the ladies in the can- 
tonment, to a little festival in honor of the recovery of my 
health, of the commencement of the shooting season, and indeed 
as a farewell visit, for it was my intention to take dawk the very 
next morning and return to my regiment. The three amateur 
missionaries whom I have mentioned, and some ladies in the 
cantonment of very rigid religious principles, refused to appear 
at my little party. They had better never have been born than 
have done as they did : as you shall hear. 

“We had been dancing merrily all night, and the supper 
(chiefly of the delicate condor, the luscious adjutant, and other 
birds of a similar kind, which I had shot in the course of the 
day) had been duly feted by every lady and gentleman present ; 
when I took an opportunity to retire on the ramparts, with the 
interesting and lovely Belinda Bulcher. I was occupied, as the 
French say, in conter-mg fleurcttes to this sweet young creature, 
when, all of a sudden, a rocket was seen whizzing through the 
air, and a strong light was visible in the valley below the little 
fort. 




THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


“ ‘ What, fireworks ! Captain Gahagan/ said Belinda ; c this 
is too gallant/ 

“‘Indeed, my dear Miss Bulcher/ said I, ‘they are fire- 
works of which I have no idea : perhaps our friends the mis- 
sionaries ’ 

“ Look, look ! ’ said Belinda, trembling, and clutching tightly 
hold of my arm : ‘ what do I see ? yes — no — yes ! it is — our 
bungalow is in flames ! 5 

“ It was true, the spacious bungalow occupied by Mrs. 
Major-General was at that moment seen a prey to the devour- 
ing element — another and another succeeded it — seven bunga- 
lows, before I could almost ejaculate the name of Jack Robin- 
son, were seen blazing brightly in the black midnight air ! 

“ I seized my night-glass, and looking towards the spot 
where the conflagration raged, what was my astonishment to 
see thousands of black forms dancing round the fires ; whilst 
by their lights I could observe columns after columns of Indian 
horse, arriving and taking up their ground in the very middle 
of the open square or tank, round which the bungalows were 
built ! 

“ ‘ Ho, warder ! ’ shouted I (while the frightened and trem- 
bling Belinda clung closer to my side, and pressed the stalwart 
arm that encircled her waist), ‘ down with the drawbridge ! see 
that your masolgees’ (small tumbrels which are used in place 
of large artillery) ‘ be well loaded : you, sepoys, hasten and 
man the ravelin ! you, choprasees, put out the lights in the em- 
brasures ! we shall have warm work of it to-night, or my name 
is not Goliah Gahagan.’ 

“ The ladies, the guests (to the number of eighty-three), the 
sepoys, choprasees, masolgees, and so on, had all crowded on 
the platform at the sound of my shouting, and dreadful was the 
consternation, shrill the screaming, occasioned by my words. 
The men stood irresolute and mute with terror ! the women, 
trembling, knew scarcely whither to fly for refuge. ‘ Who are 
yonder ruffians ? ’ said I. A hundred voices yelped in reply — 
some said the Pindarees, some said the Mahrattas, some vowed 
it was Scindiah, and others declared it was Holkar — no one 
knew. 

“ ‘ Is there any one here/ said I, ‘ who will venture to recon- 
noitre yonder troops ? ’ There was a dead pause. 

“ ‘ A thousand tomauns to the man who will bring me news 
of yonder army ! ’ again I repeated. Still a dead silence. The 
fact was that Scindiah and Holkar both were so notorious for 
their cruelty, that no one dared venture to face the danger, 
‘Oh for fifty of my brave Ahmednuggarees 1 9 thought I. 


OF MAJOR G A HA GAN. 


173 


“ 1 Gentlemen,’ said I, ‘I see it — you are cowards — none of 
you dare encounter the chance even of death. It is an encour- 
aging prospect : know you not that the ruffian Holkar, if it be 
he, will with the morrow’s dawn beleaguer our little fort, and 
throw thousands of men against our walls ? know you not that, 
if we are taken, there is no quarter, no hope ; death for us — 
and worse than death for these lovely ones assembled here ?’ 
Here the ladies shrieked and raised a howl as I have heard the 
jackals on a summer’s evening. Belinda, my dear Belinda ! 
flung both her arms round me, and sobbed on my shoulder (or 
in my waistcoat-pocket rather, for the little witch could reach no 
higher). 

44 4 Captain Gahagan,’ sobbed she, 4 Go — Go— Goggle — iah / 9 

44 4 My soul’s adored ! ’ replied I. 

44 4 Swear to me one thing.’ 

44 4 1 swear.’ 

44 4 That if — that if — the nasty, horrid, odious black Mah- 
ra-a-a-attahs take the fort, you will put me out of their power.’ 

44 1 clasped the dear girl to my heart, and swore upon my 
sword that, rather than she should incur the risk of dishonor, 
she should perish by my own hand. This comforted her ; and 
her mother, Mrs. Major-General Bulcher, and her elder sister, 
who had not until now known a word of our attachment, (in- 
deed, but for these extraordinary circumstances, it is probable 
that we ourselves should never have discovered it), were under 
these painful circumstances made aware of my beloved Belinda’s 
partiality for me. Having communicated thus her wish of self- 
destruction, I thought her example a touching and excellent 
one, and proposed to all the ladies that they should follow it, 
and that at the entry of the enemy into the fort, and at a signal 
given by me, they should one and all make away with them- 
selves. Fancy my disgust when, after making this proposition, 
not one of the ladies chose to accede to it, and received it 
with the same chilling denial that my former proposal to the 
garrison had met with. 

44 In the midst of this hurry and confusion, as if purposely 
to add to it, a trumpet was heard at the gate of the fort, and 
one of the sentinels came running to me, saying that a Mahratta 
soldier was before the gate with a flag of truce ! 

44 1 went down, rightly conjecturing, as it turned out, that 
the party, whoever they might be, had no artillery; and re- 
ceived at the point of my sword a scroll, of which the following 
is a translation : — 


*74 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


“TO GOLIAH GAHAGAN GUJPUTI. 

“ ‘ Lord of Elephants, Sir, — I have the honor to inform you 
that I arrived before this place at eight o’clock p. m. with ten 
thousand cavalry under my orders. I have burned, since my 
arrival, seventeen bungalows in Furruckabad and Futtyghur, 
and have likewise been under the painful necessity of putting 
to death three clergymen (mollahs), and seven English officers, 
whom I found in the village ; the women have been transferred 
to safe keeping in the harems of my officers and myself. 

“ 4 As I know your courage and talents, I shall be very 
happy if you will surrender the fortress, and take service as a 
major-general (hookahbadar). in my army. Should my proposal 
not meet with your assent, I beg leave to state that to-morrow 
I shall storm the fort, and on taking it, shall put to death every 
male in the garrison, and every female above twenty years of 
age. For yourself I shall reserve a punishment, which for 
novelty and exquisite torture has, I flatter myself, hardly ever 
been exceeded. Awaiting the favor of a reply, I am, Sir, 

44 4 Your very obedient servant, 

“‘Jeswunt Row Holkar. 

“ * Camp before Futtyghur , Sept . i, 1804. 

“ ‘ R. S. V. P/ 

44 The officer who had brought this precious epistle (it is 
astonishing how Holkar had aped the forms of English cor- 
respondence), an enormous Pitan soldier, with a shirt of mail, 
and a steel cap and cape, round which his turban wound, was 
leaning against the gate on his matchlock, and whistling a 
national melody. I read the letter, and saw at once there was 
no time to be lost. That man, thought I, must never go back 
to Holkar. Were he to attack us now before we were pre- 
pared, the fort would be his in half an hour. 

44 Tying my white pocket-handkerchief to a stick, I flung 
open the gate and advanced to the officer ; he was standing, I 
said, on the little bridge across the moat. I made him a low 
salaam, after the fashion of the country, and, as he bent for- 
ward to return the compliment, I am sorry to Say, I plunged 
forward, gave him a violent blow on the head, which deprived 
him of all sensation, and then dragged him within the wall, 
raising the drawbridge after me. 

44 I bore the body into my own apartment ; there, swift as 
thought, I stripped him of his turban, cammerbund, peijam- 
mahs, and papooshes, and, putting them on myself, determined 
to go forth and reconnoitre the enemy.” 


OF MAJOR G A HA GAN, 


*75 


• # * # * 

Here I was obliged to stop, for Cabrera, Ros d’Eroles, and 
the rest of the staff, were sound asleep ! What I did in my 
reconnaissance, and how I defended the fort of Futtyghur, I 
shall have the honor of telling on another occasion. 


Chapter IV. 

THE INDIAN CAMP THE SORTIE FROM THE FORT. 

Head-Quarter s, Morelia , Oct. 3, 1838. 

It is a t balmy night. I hear the merry jingle of the tam- 
bourine, and the cheery voices of the girls and peasants, as 
they dance beneath my casement, under the shadow of the 
clustering vines. The laugh and song pass gayly round, and 
even at this distance I can distinguish the elegant form of 
Ramon Cabrera, as he whispers gay nothings in the ears of the 
Andalusian girls, or joins in the thrilling chorus of Riego’s 
hymn, which is ever and anon vociferated by the enthusiastic 
soldiery of Carlos Quinto. I am alone, in the most inacces- 
sible and most bomb-proof tower of our little fortalice ; the 
large casements are open — the wind, as it enters, whispers in 
my ear its odorous recollections of the orange grove and the 
myrtle bower. My torch (a branch of the fragrant cedar-tree) 
flares and flickefs in the midnight breeze, and disperses its 
scent and burning splinters on my scroll and the desk where I 
write — meet implements for a soldier’s authorship ! — it is car - 
Iridge paper over which my pen runs so glibly, and a yawning 
barrel of gunpowder forms my rough writing-table. Around 
me, below me, above me, all — all is peace ! I think, as I sit 
here so lonely, on my country, England ! and muse over the 
sweet and bitter recollections of my early days ! Let me 
resume my narrative, at the point where (interrupted by the 
authoritative summons of war) I paused on the last occasion. 

I left off, I think — (for I am a thousand miles away from 
proof-sheets as I write, and, were I not writing the simple 
truth, must contradict myself a thousand times in the course 
of my tale) — I think, I say, that I left off at that period of my 
story, when, Holkar being before Futtyghur, and I in com- 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


*76 

mand of that fortress, I had just been compelled to make away 
with his messenger ; and, dressed in the fallen Indian’s accou- 
trements, went forth to reconnoitre the force, and, if possible, 
to learn the intentions of the enemy. However much my figure 
might have resembled that of the Pitan, and, disguised in his 
armor, might have deceived the lynx-eved Mahrattas, into 
whose camp I was about to plunge, it was evident that a single 
glance at my fair face and auburn beard would have undeceived 
the dullest blockhead in Holkar’s army. Seizing, then a bottle 
of Burgess’s walnut catsup, I dyed my face and my hands, and, 
with the simple aid of a flask of Warren’s jet, I made my hair 
and beard as black as ebony. The Indian’s helmet and chain 
hood covered likewise a great part of my face, and I hoped 
thus, with luck, impudence, and a complete command of all 
the Eastern dialects and languages, from Burmah to Afghanis- 
tan, to pass scot-free through this -somewhat dangerous ordeal. 

I had not the word of the night, it is true — but I trusted to 
good fortune for that, and passed boldly out of the fortress, 
bearing the flag of truce as before ; I had scarcely passed on a 
couple of hundred yards, when lo ! a party of Indian horse- 
men, armed like him I had just overcome, trotted towards me. 
One was leading a noble white charger, and no sooner did he 
see me than, dismounting from his own horse, and giving the 
rein to a companion, he advanced to meet me with the charger ; 
a second fellow likewise dismounted and followed the first ; 
one held the bridle of the horse, while the other (with a multi- 
tude of salaams, aleikums, and other genuflexions,) held the 
jewelled stirrup, and kneeling, waited until I should mount. 

I took the hint at once : the Indian who had come up to 
the fort was a great man — that was evident ; I walked on with 
a majestic air, gathered up the velvet reins, and sprung into 
the magnificent high-peaked saddle. “ Buk, buk,” said L “ It 
is good. In the name of the forty-nine Imaums, let us ride on.” 
And the whole party set off at a brisk trot, I keeping silence, 
and thinking with no little trepidation of what I was about to 
encounter. 

As we rode along, I heard two of the men commenting 
upon my unusual silence (for I suppose, I — that is the Indian 
— was a talkative officer). “The lips of the Bahawder are 
closed,” said one. “ Where are those birds of Paradise, his 
long-tailed words ? they are imprisoned between the golden 
bars of his teeth ! ” 

“ Kush,” said his companion, “ be quiet ! Bobbachy Bahaw' 
d$r has seen the dreadful Feringhee, Gahagan Khan Gujputi, 


OF MAJOR GAMA GAM. 


*77 


the elephant-lord, whose sword reaps the harvest of death ; 
there is but one champion who can wear the papooshes of the 
elephant-slayer — it is Bobbachy Bahawder! ” 

“ You speak truly, Puneeree Muckun, the Bahawder rumi- 
nates on the words of the unbeliever : he is an ostrich, and 
hatches the eggs of his thoughts.” 

“ Bekhusm ! on my nose be it ! May the young birds, his 
actions, be strong and swift in flight.” 

“ May they digest iron /” said Puneeree Muckun, who was 
evidently a wag in his way. 

“O-ho ! ” thought I, as suddenly the light flashed upon me. 
“ It was, then, the famous Bobbachy Bahawder, whom’ I over- 
came just now ! and he is the man destined to stand in my 
slippers, is he ? ” and I was at that very moment standing in 
his own ! Such are the chances and changes that fall to the 
lot of the soldier ! 

I suppose everybody — everybody who has been in India, at 
least— has heard the name of Bobbachy Bahawder : it is de- 
rived from the two Hindustanee words — bobbachy , general ; 
bahaTJoder , artilleryman. He had entered into Holkar’s service 
in the latter capacity, and had, by his merit and undaunt- 
ed bravery in action, attained the dignity of the peacock’s 
feather, which is only granted to noblemen of the first class \ 
he was married, moreover, to one of Holkar’s innumerable 
daughters : a match which, according to the Chronique Scanda- 
teuse , brought more of honor than of pleasure to the poor Bob- 
bachy. Gallant as he was in the field, it was said that in the 
harem he was the veriest craven alive, completely subjugated 
by his ugly and odious wife. In all matters of importance the 
late Bahawder had been consulted by his prince, who had, as 
it appears, (knowing my character, and not caring to do any- 
thing rash in his attack upon so formidable an enemy,) sent 
forward the unfortunate Pitan to reconnoitre the fort ; he was 
to have done yet more, as I learned from the attendant Pu- 
neeree Muckun, who was, I soon found out, an old favorite 
with the Bobbachy — doubtless on account of his honesty and 
love of repartee. 

“ The Bahawder’s lips are closed,” said he, as last, trotting 
up to me ; “ has he not a word for old Puneeree Muckun ? ” 

“ Bismillah, mashallah, barikallah/ said I ; which means, 
“ My good friend, what I have seen is not worth the trouble 
of relation, and fills my bosom with the darkest forebodings.” 

“ You could not then see the Gujputi alone, and stab him 
with your dagger ? ” 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


178 

[Here was a pretty conspiracy !] “ No, I saw him, but not 

alone ; his people were always with him. ,, 

“ Hurrumzadeh ! it is a pity ; we waited but the sound of 
your jogree (whistle), and straightway would have galloped up 
and seized upon every man, woman, and child in the fort : how- 
ever, there are but a dozen men in the garrison, and they have 
not provision for two days — they must yield ; and then hurrah 
for the moon-faces ! Mashallah ! I am told the soldiers who 
first get in are to have their pick. How my old woman, Rotee 
Muckun, will be surprised when I bring home a couple of Fer- 
inghee wives, — ha ! ha ! ” 

“ Fool ! ” said I, “ be still ! — twelve men in the garrison ! 
there are twelve hundred ! Gahagan himself is as good as a 
thousand men ; and as for food, I saw with my own eyes five 
hundred bullocks grazing in the court-yard as I entered.” This 
was a bouncer, I confess ; but my object was to deceive Pm 
neeree Muckun, and give him as high a notion as possible of 
the capabilities of defence which the besieged had. 

“ Pooch, pooch/’ murmured the men ; “it is a wonder of a 
fortress : we shall never be able to take it until our guns come 
up.” 

There was hope then ! they had no battering-train. Ere 
this arrived, I trusted that Lord Lake would hear of our plight, 
and march down to rescue us. Thus occupied in thought and 
conversation, we rode on until the advanced sentinel challenged 
us, when old Puneeree gave the word, and we passed on into 
the centre of Holkar’s camp. 

It was a strange — a stirring sight ! The camp-fires were 
lighted ; and round them — eating, reposing, talking, looking at 
the merry steps of the dancing-girls, or listening to the stories 
of some Dhol Baut (or Indian improvisatore) — were thousands 
of dusky soldiery. The camels and horses were picketed under 
the banyan-trees, on which the ripe mango fruit was growing, 
and offered them an excellent food. Towards the spot which 
the golden fish and royal purdahs, floating in the wind, des- 
ignated as the tent of Holkar, led an immense avenue — of 
elephants ! the finest street, indeed, I ever saw. Each of the 
monstrous animals had a castle on its back, armed with Mauri- 
tanian archers and the celebrated Persian matchlock-men ! it 
was the feeding time of these royal brutes, and the grooms were 
observed bringing immense toffungs, or baskets, filled with 
pine-apples, plantains, bananas, Indian corn, and cocoa-nuts, 
which grow luxuriantly at all seasons of the year. We passed 
down this extraordinary avenue — no less than three hundred 


OF MAJOR GAMA GAM. 


ijr 9 

and eighty-eight tails did I Count on each side — each tail as 
pertaining to an elephant twenty-five feet high — each elephant 
having a two-storied castle on its back — each castle contain- 
ing sleeping and eating rooms for the twelve men that formed 
its garrison, and were keeping watch on the roof — each roof 
bearing a flag-staff twenty feet long on its top, the crescent 
glittering with a thousand gems, and round it the imperial 
standard, — each standard of silk velvet and cloth-of-gold, bear- 
ing the well-known device of Holkar, argent an or gules, be- 
tween a sinople of the first, a chevron, truncated, wavy. I took 
nine of these myself in the course of a very short time after, 
and shall be happy, when I come to England, to show them to 
any gentleman who has a curiosity that way. Through this 
gorgeous scene our little cavalcade passed, and at last we 
arrived at the quarters occupied by Holkar. 

That celebrated chieftain’s tents and followers were gathered 
round one of the British bungalows which had escaped the 
flames, and which he occupied during the siege. When I 
entered the large room where he sat, I found him in the midst 
of a council of war ; his chief generals and viziers seated round 
him, each smoking his hookah, as is the common way with 
these black fellows, before, at, and after breakfast, dinner, 
supper, and bedtime. There was such a cloud raised by their 
smoke you could hardly see a yard before you — another piece 
of good luck for me — as it diminished the chances of my detec- 
tion. When, with the ordinary ceremonies, the kitmatgars and 
consomahs had explained to the prince that Bobbachy Bahawder, 
the right eye of the Sun of the universe (as the ignorant hea- 
thens called me), had arrived from his mission, Holkar imme- 
diately summoned me to the maidaun, or elevated platform, on 
which he was seated in a luxurious easy-chair, and I, instantly 
taking off my slippers, falling on my knees, and beating my 
head against the ground ninety-nine times, proceeded, still on 
my knees, a hundred and twenty feet through the room, and 
then up the twenty steps which led to his maidaun — a silly, 
painful, and disgusting ceremony, which can only be con- 
sidered as a relic of barbarian darkness, which tears the knees 
and shins to pieces, let alone the pantaloons. I recommend 
anybody who goes to India, with the prospect of entering the 
service of the native rajahs, to recollect my advice, and have 
them well wadded. 

Well, the right eye of the Sun of the universe scrambled as 
well as he could up the steps of the maidaun (on which, in 
rows, smoking, as I have said, the musnuds or general officers 


iZo THE tremendous adventures 

were seated), and I arrived within speaking-distance of Holkar, 
who instantly asked me the success of my mission. The im- 
petuous old man thereon poured out a multitude of questions : 
“ How many men are there in the fort ? ” said he ; “ how many 
women ? Is it victualled ? have they ammunition ? Did you 
see Gahagan Sahib, the commander ? did you kill him ? ” 

All these questions Jeswunt Row Holkar puffed out with so 
many whiffs of tobacco. 

Taking a chillum myself, and raising about me such a cloud 
that, upon my honor as a gentleman, no man at three yards’ 
distance could perceive anything of me except the pillar of 
smoke in which I was encompassed, I told Holkar, in Oriental 
language of course, the best tale I could with regard to the 
fort. 

“ Sir,” said I, “ to answer your last question first — that 
dreadful Gujputi I have seen — and he is alive : he is eight 
feet, nearly, in height ; he can eat a bullock daily (of which he 
has seven hundred at present in the compound, and swears 
that during the siege he will content himself with only three a 
week) : he has lost, in battle, his left eye ; and what is the 
consequence ? O Ram Gunge ” (O thou-with-the-eye-as-bright- 
as-morning and-with-beard-as-black-as-night), “Goliah Gujputi 

NEVER SLEEPS 1 ” 

“ Ah, you Ghorumsaug (you thief of the world,) ” said the 
Prince Vizier, Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee — “ it’s joking you 
are;” — and there was a universal buzz through the room at 
the announcement of this bouncer. 

“ By the hundred and eleven incarnations of Vishnu,” said 
I, solemnly (an oath which no Indian was ever known to 
break), “ I swear that so it is : so at least he told me, and I 
have good cause to know his power. Gujputi is an enchanter: 
he is leagued with devils ; he is invulnerable. Look,” said I, 
unsheathing my dagger — and every eye turned instantly 
towards me — “thrice did I stab him with this steel — in the 
back, once — twice right through the heart ; but he only laughed 
me to scorn, and bade me tell Holkar that the steel was not 
yet forged which was to inflict an injury upon him.” 

I never saw a man in such a rage as Holkar was when I 
gave him this somewhat imprudent message. 

“ Ah, lily-livered rogue ! ” shouted he out to me, “ milk- 
blooded unbeliever ! pale-faced miscreant ! lives he after in- 
sulting thy master in thy presence? In the name of the 
Prophet, I spit on thee, defy thee, abhor thee, degrade thee ! 
Take that, thou liar of the universe ! and that — and that — and 
that J ” 


OF MAJOR G A HA GAM 


181 

Such are the frightful excesses of barbaric minds ! every 
time this old man said, “ Take that,” he flung some article near 
him at the head of the undaunted Gahagan — his dagger, his 
sword, his carbine, his richly ornamented pistols, his turban 
covered with jewels, worth a hundred thousand crores of rupees 
— finally, his hookah, snake mouthpiece, silver-bell, chillum and 
all — which went hissing over my head, and flattening into a 
jelly the nose of the Grand Vizier. 

“ Yock muzzee ! ” my nose is off,” said the old man, mildly. 
“ Will you have my life, O Holkar ? it is thine likewise ! ” and 
no other word of complaint escaped his lips. 

Of all these missiles, though a pistol and carbine had gone 
off as the ferocious Indian flung them at my head, and the 
naked scimitar, fiercely but adroitly thrown, had lopped off the 
limbs of one or two of the musnuds as they sat trembling on 
their omrahs, yet, strange to say, not a single weapon had hurt 
me. When the hubbub ceased, and the unlucky wretches who 
had been the victims of this fit of rage had been removed, 
Holkar’s good-humor somewhat returned, and he allowed me 
to continue my account of the fort ; which I did, not taking the 
slightest notice of his burst of impatience : as indeed it would 
have been the height of impoliteness to have done, for such 
accidents happened many times in the day. 

“ It is well that the Bobbachy has returned,” snuffled out 
the poor Grand Vizier, after I had explained to the Council the 
extraordinary means of defence possessed by the garrison. 
“ Your star is bright, O Bahawder ! for this very night we had 
resolved upon an escalade of the fort, and he had swore to put 
every one of the infidel garrison to the edge of the sword.” 

“ But you have no battering train,” said I. 

“ Bah ! we have a couple of ninety-six pounders, quite suffi- 
cient to blow the gates open ; and then, hey for a charge ! ” 
said Loll Mahommed, a general of cavalry, who was a rival of 
Bobbachy’s, and contradicted, therefore, every word I said. 
“ In the name of Juggernaut, why wait for the heavy artillery ! 
Have we not swords ? Have we not hearts ? Mashallah ! Let 
cravens stay with Bobbachy, all true men will follow Loll 
Mahommed ! Allahhumdillah, Bismillah, Barikallah ? ” * and 
drawing his scimitar, he waved it over his head, and shouted 
out his cry of battle. It was repeated by many of the other 
omrahs ; the sound of their cheers was carried into the camp, 

* The Major has put the most approved language into the mouths of his Indian char« 
acters. Bismillah, Barikillah, and so on, according to the novelists, form the very essence 
of Eastern conversation. 


iSi 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


and caught up by the men ; the camels began to cry, the horses 
to prance and neigh, the eight hundred elephants set up a 
scream, the trumpeters and drummers clanged away at their in- 
struments. I never heard such a din before or after. How I 
trembled for my little garrison when I heard the enthusiastic 
cries of this innumerable host ! 

There was but one way for it. “ Sir,” said I, addressing 
Holkar, “go out to-night, and you go to certain death. Loll 
Mahommed has not seen the fort as I have. Pass the gate if 
you please, and for what ? to fall before the fire of a hundred 
pieces of artillery ; to storm another gate, and then another, 
and then to be blown up, with Gahagan’s garrison in the citadel. 
Who talks of courage ? Were I not in your august presence, O 
star of the faithful, I would crop Loll Mahommed’s nose from 
his face, and wear his ears as an ornament in my own pugree ! 
Who is there here that knows not the difference between yonder 
yellow-skinned coward and Gahagan Khan Guj — I mean Bob- 
bachy Bahawder? I am ready to fight one, two, three, or 
twenty of them, at broad-sword, small-sword, single-stick, with 
fists, if you please. By the holy piper, fighting is like mate and 
dthrink to Ga — to Bobbachy, I mane — whoop ! come on, you 
divvle, and Fll bate the skin off your ugly bones.” 

This speech had very nearly proved fatal to me, for, when I 
am agitated, I involuntarily adopt some of the phraseology 
peculiar to my own country ; which is so un-eastern, that, had 
there been any suspicion as to my real character, detection 
must indubitably have ensued. As it was, Holkar perceived 
nothing, but instantaneously stopped the dispute. Loll 
Mahommed, however, evidently suspected something, for, as 
Holkar, with a voice of thunder, shouted out, “ Tomasha 
(silence),” Loll sprang forward and gasped out — 

“ My lord ! my lord ! this is not Bob ” 

But he could say no more. “ Gag the slave ! ” screamed 
out Holkar, stamping with fury ; and a turban was instantly 
twisted round the poor devil’s jaws. “ Ho, furoshes ! carry 
out Loll Mahommed Khan, give him a hundred dozen on the 
soles of his feet, set him upon a white donkey, and carry him 
round the camp, with an inscription before him : “ This is the 
way that Holkar rewards the talkative/ ” 

I breathed again ; and ever as I heard each whack of the 
bamboo falling on Loll Mahommed’s feet, I felt peace returning 
to my mind, and thanked my stars that I was delivered of this 
danger. 

“Vizier,” said Holkar, who enjoyed Loll’s roars amazingly 


OF MAJOR G A HA GAN. 


i*3 

tl I owe you a reparation for your nose : kiss the hand of your 
prince, O Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee ! be from this day forth 
Zoheir u Dowlut ! ” 

The good old man’s eyes filled with tears. “ I can bear thy 
severity, O Prince,” said he ; “ I cannot bear thy love. Was it 
not an honor that your Highness did me just now when you con- 
descended to pass over the bridge of your slave’s nose ? ” 

The phrase was by all voices pronounced to be very poeti- 
cal. The Vizier retired, crowned with his new honors, to bed. 
Holkar was in high good humor. 

“ Bobbachy,” said he, “ thou, too, must pardon me. A 
propos, I have news for thee. Your wife, the incomparable 
Puttee Rooge ” (white and red rose), “ has arrived in camp.” 

“ My wife, my lord ! ” said I, aghast. 

“ Our daughter, the light of thine eyes ! Go, my son ; I see 
thou art wild with joy. The Princess’s tents are set up close by 
mine, and I know thou longest to join her.” 

My wife ? Here was a complication truly 


Chapter V. 

THE ISSUE OF MY INTERVIEW WITH MY WIFE. 

I found Puneeree Muckun, with the rest of my attendants, 
waiting at the gate, and they immediately conducted me to my 
own tents in the neighborhood. I have been in many dangerous 
predicaments before that time and since, but I don’t care to 
deny that I felt in the present instance such a throbbing of the 
heart as I never have experienced when leading a forlorn hope, 
or marching up to a battery. 

As soon as I entered the tents a host of menials sprang for- 
ward, some to ease me of my armor, some to offer me refresh- 
ments, some with hookahs, attar of roses (in great quart bottles), 
and the thousand delicacies of Eastern life. I motioned them 
away. “ I will wear my armor,” said I ; “ I shall go forth to- 
night ; carry my duty to the princess, and say I grieve that 
to-night I have not the time to see her. Spread me a couch 
here, and bring me supper here : a jar of Persian wine well 
cooled, a lamb stuffed with pistachio-nuts, a pillaw of a couple 
of turkeys, a curried kid — anything, Begone ! Give me a 
pipe ; leave me alone, and tell me when the meal is ready.” 


1 84 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 

I thought by these means to put off the fair Puttee Rooge, 
and hoped to be able to escape without subjecting myself to the 
examination of her curious eyes. After smoking for a while, an 
attendant came to tell me that my supper was prepared in the 
inner apartment of the tent (I suppose that the reader, if he be 
possessed of the commonest intelligence, knows that the tents 
of the Indian grandees are made of the finest Cashmere shawls, 
and contain a dozen rooms at least, with carpets, chimneys, and 
sash-windows complete). I entered, I say, into an inner cham- 
ber, and there began with my fingers to devour my meal in the 
Oriental fashion, taking, every now and then, a pull from the 
wine jar, which was cooling deliciously in another jar of snow. 

I was just in the act of despatching the last morsel of a most 
savory stewed lamb and rice, which had formed my meal, when 
I heard a scuffle of feet, a shrill clatter of female voices, and, the 
curtain being flung open, in marched a lady accompanied by 
twelve slaves, with moon faces and slim waists, lovely as the 
houris in Paradise. 

The lady herself, to do her justice, was as great a contrast 
to her attendants as could possibly be : she was crooked, old, 
of the complexion of molasses, and rendered a thousand times 
more ugly by the tawdry dress and the blazing jewels with 
which she was covered. A line of yellow chalk drawn from her 
forehead to the tip of her nose (which was further ornamented 
by an immense glittering nose-ring), her eyelids painted bright 
red, and a large dab of the same color on her chin, showed she 
was not of the Mussulman, but the Brahmin faith — and of a 
very high caste ; you could see that by her eyes. My mind was 
instantaneously made up as to my line of action. 

The male attendants had of course quitted the apartment, as 
they heard the well-known sound of her voice. It would have 
been death to them to have remained and looked in her face. 
The females ranged themselves round their mistress, as she 
squatted down opposite to me. 

“ And is this/’ said she, “ a welcome, O Khan ! after six 
months’ absence, for the most unfortunate and loving wife in 
all the world ? Is this lamb, O glutton ! half so tender as thy 
spouse ? Is this wine, O sot ! half so sweet as her looks ? ” 

I saw the storm was brewing — her slaves, to whom she 
turned, kept up a kind of chorus : — 

“ Oh, the faithless one ! ” cried they. “ Oh, the rascal, the 
false one, who has no eye for beauty, and no heart for love, like 
the Khanum’s ! ” 

“ A lamb is not so sweet as love,” said I gravely : “ but a 


OP MAJOR GAHAGAN 


185 

lamb has a good temper ; a wine-cup is not so intoxicating as a 
woman — but a wine-cup has no tongue, O Khanum Gee ! ” and 
again I dipped my nose in the soul-refreshing jar. 

The sweet Puttee Rooge was not, however, to be put off by 
my repartees ; she and her maidens recommenced their chorus, 
and chattered and stormed until I lost all patience. 

“ Retire, friends,” said I, “ and leave me in peace.” 

“ Stir, on your peril ! ” cried the Khanum. 

So, seeing there was no help for it but violence, I drew out 
my pistols, cocked them, and said, “ O houris ! these pistols 
contain each too balls : the daughter of Holkar bears a sacred 
life for me — but for you ! — by all the saints of Hindustan, four 
ot ye shall die if ye stay a moment longer in my presence ! ” 
This was enough ; the ladies gave a shriek, and skurried out of 
the apartment like a covey of partridges on the wing. 

Now, then, was the time for action. My wife, or rather 
Bobbachy’s wife, sat still, a little flurried, by the unusual fero- 
city which her lord had displayed in her presence. I seized 
her hand and, griping it close, whispered in her ear, to which 
I put the other pistol : — “ O Khanum, listen and scream not ; 
the moment you scream, you die ! ” She was completely 
beaten ; she turned as pale as a woman could in her situation, 
and said, “ Speak, Bobbachy Bahawder, I am dumb.” 

“ Woman,” said I, taking off my helmet, and removing the 
chain cape which had covered almost the whole of my face — 
“/ am not thy husband — I am the slayer of elephants, the 
world-renowned Gahagan ! ” 

As I said this, and as the long ringlets of red hair fell over 
my shoulders (contrasting strangely with my dyed face and 
beard), I formed one of the finest pictures that can possibly be 
conceived, and I recommend it as a subject to Mr. Heath, for 
the next “ Book of Beauty.” 

“ Wretch ! ” said she, “ what wouldst thou ? ” 

“ You black-faced fiend,” said I, “ raise but your voice, and 
you are dead ! ” 

“ And afterwards,” said she, “do you suppose that you can 
escape ? The torments of hell are not so terrible as the tor- 
tures that Holkar will invent for thee.” 

“ Tortures, madam ? ” answered I, coolly. “ Fiddlesticks ! 
You will neither betray me, nor will I be put to the torture : on 
the contrary, you will give me your best jewels and facilitate 
my escape to the fort. Don’t grind your teeth and swear at 
me. Listen, madam : you know this dress and these arms ; — 
they are the arms of youL husband, Bobbachy Bahawder — my 


186 the tremendous adventures 

prisoner. He now lies in yonder fort, and if I do not return 
before daylight, at sunrise he dies : and then, when they send his 
corpse back to Holkar, what will you, his widow , do ?” 

“Oh ! ” said she, shuddering, “spare me, spare me ! ” 

“ I’ll tell you what you will do. You will have the pleasure 
of dying along with him — of being roasted ’ madam : an agonizing 
death, from which your father cannot save you, to which he will 
be the first man to condemn and conduct you. Ha ! I see we 
understand each other, and you will give me over the cash-box 
and jewels.” And so saying I threw myself back with the calm- 
est air imaginable, flinging the pistols over to her. “ Light me 
a pipe, my love,” said I, “and then go and hand me over the 
dollars ; do you hear ? ” You see I had her in my power — up 
a tree, as the Americans say, and she very humbly lighted my 
pipe for me, and then departed for the goods I spoke about. 

What a thing is luck ! If Loll Mahommed had not been 
made to take that ride round the camp, I should infallibly have 
been lost. 

My supper, my quarrel with the princess, and my pipe after- 
wards, had occupied a couple of hours of my time. The prin- 
cess returned from her quest, and brought with her the box, 
containing valuables to the amount of about three millions 
sterling. (I was cheated of them afterwards, but have the box 
still, a plain deal one.) I was just about to take my departure, 
when a tremendous knocking, shouting, and screaming was 
heard at the entrance of the tent. It was Holkar himself, 
accompanied by that cursed Loll Mahommed, who, after his 
punishment, found his master restored to good-humor, and had 
communicated to him his firm conviction that I was an im- 
postor. 

“ Ho, Begum ! ” shouted he, in the ante-room (for he and 
his people could not enter the women’s apartments), “ speak, 
O my daughter ! is your husband returned ? ” 

“ Speak, madam,” said I, “ or remember the roasting.” 

“ He is, papa,” said the Begum. 

“ Are you sure ? Ho ! ho ! ho ! ” (the old ruffian was laugh- 
ing outside) — “ are you sure it is ? — Ha ! aha ! — he-e-e 1” 

“ Indeed it is he, and no other. I pray you, father, to go, 
and to pass no more such shameless jests on your daughter. 
Have I ever seen the face of any other man ? ” And hereat 
she began to weep as if her heart would break — the deceitful 
minx ! 

Holkar’s laugh was instantly turned to fury. “ Oh, you liar 
and eternal thief ! ” said he, turning round (as I presume, for 


OF MAJOR G A HA GAN. 


187 

I could only hear) to Loll Mahommed, “ to make your prince 
eat such monstrous dirt as this ! Furoshes, seize this man. I 
dismiss him from my service, I degrade him from his rank, I 
appropriate to ihyself : all his property : and hark ye, furoshes, 

GIVE HIM A HUNDRED DOZEN MORE ! ” 

Again I heard the whacks of the bamboos, and peace flowed 
into my soul. 

***** 

Just as morn began to break, two figures were seen to ap- 
proach the little fortress of Futtyghur : one was a woman wrap- 
ped closely in a veil, the other a warrior, remarkable for the 
size and manly beauty of his form, who carried in his hand a 
deal box of considerable size. The warrior at the gate gave 
the word and was admitted, the woman returned slowly to the 
Indian camp. Her name was Puttee Rooge ; his was — 

G. O’G. G., M. H. E. I. C. S., C. I. H. A. 


Chapter VI. 

FAMINE IN THE GARRISON. 

Thus my dangers for the night being overcome, I hastened 
with my precious box into my own apartment, which communi- 
cated with another, where I had left my prisoner, with a guard 
to report if he should recover, and to prevent his escape. % My 
servant, Ghorumsaug, was one of the guard. .1 called him, and 
the fellow came, looking very much confused and frightened, as 
it seemed, at my appearance. 

“ Why, Ghorumsaug,” said I, “ what makes thee look so 
pale, fellow ? ” (He was as white as a sheet.) “ It is thy mas- 
ter, dost thou not remember him ? ” The man had seen me 
dress myself in the Pitan’s clothes, but was not present when 
I had blacked my face and beard in the manner I have de- 
scribed. 

“ O Bramah, Vishnu, and Mahomet ! ” cried the faithful 
fellow, “ and do I see my dear master disguised in this way ? 
For heaven’s sake let me rid you of this odious black paint ; 
for what will the ladies say in the ball-room, if the beautiful 
Feringhee should appear amongst them with his roses turned 
into coal ? ” 


i88 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


I am still one of the finest men in Europe, and at the time 
of which I write, when only two-and-twentv, I confess I was a 
little vain of my personal appearance, and not very willing to 
appear before my dear Belinda disguised like a blackamoor. I 
allowed Ghorumsaug to divest me of the heathenish armor and 
habiliments which I wore ; and having, with a world of scrub- 
bing and trouble, divested my face and beard of their black 
tinge, I put on my own becoming uniform, and hastened to wait 
on the ladies ; hastened, I say, — although delayed would have 
been the better word, for the operation of bleaching lasted at 
least two hours. 

“ How is the prisoner, Ghorumsaug ? ” said I, before leaving 
my apartment. 

“ He has recovered from the blow which the Lion dealt 
him ; two men and myself watch over him ; and Macgillicuddy 
Sahib (the second in command) has just been the rounds, and 
has seen that all was secure.” 

I bade Ghorumsaug help me to put away my chest of treas- 
ure (my exultation in taking it was so great that I could not 
help informing him of its contents) ; and this done, I de- 
spatched him to his post near the prisoner, while I prepared to 
sally forth and pay my respects to the fair creatures under my 
protection. “ What good after all have I done,” thought I to 
myself, “ in this expedition which I had so rashly undertaken ? ” 
I had seen the renowned Holkar, I had been in the heart of 
his camp ; I knew the disposition of his troops, that there 
were eleven thousand of them, and that he only waited for his 
guns to make a regular attack on the fort. I had seen Puttee 
RoogS ; I had robbed her (I say robbed her, and I don’t care 
what the reader or any other man may think of the act,) of a 
deal box, containing jewels to the amount of three millions 
sterling, the property of herself and husband. 

Three millions in money and jewels ! And what the deuce 
were money and jewels to me or to my poor garrison ? Could 
my adorable Miss Bulcher eat a fricassee of diamonds, or, 
Cleopatra-like, melt down pearls to her tea ? Could I, careless 
as I am about food, with a stomach that would digest anything 
— (once, in Spain, I ate the leg of a horse during a famine, and 
was so eager to swallow this morsel that I bolted the shoe, as 
well as the hoof, and never felt the slightest inconvenience from 
either), — could I, I say, expect to live long and well upon a 
ragout of rupees, or a dish of stewed emeralds and rubies ? 
With all the wealth of Croesus before me I felt melancholy ; 
and would have paid cheerfully its weight in carats for a good 


OF MAJOR G A HA GAM. 


189 

honest round of boiled beef. Wealth, wealth, what art thou ? 
What is gold ? — Soft metal. What are diamonds ? — 'Shining 
tinsel. The great wealth-winners, the only fame-achievers, the 
sole objects worthy of a soldier’s consideration, are beefsteaks, 
gunpowder, and cold iron. 

The two latter means of competency we possessed; I had 
in my own apartments a small store of gunpowder (keeping it 
under my own bed, with a candle burning for fear of accidents) ; 
I had 14 pieces of artillery (4 long 48’s and 4 carronades, 5 
howitzers, and a long brass mortar, for grape, which I had taken 
myself at the battle of Assaye), and muskets for ten times my 
force. My garrison, as I have told the reader in a previous 
number, consisted of 40 men, two chaplains, and a surgeon ; 
add to these my guests, 83 in number, of whom nine only were 
gentlemen (in tights, powder, pigtails, and silk stockings, who 
had come out merely for a dance, and found themselves in for 
a siege). Such were our numbers : — 


Troops and artillerymen 40 

Ladies 74 

Other non-combatants ..••••••• 11 

Major-Gen. O’G. Gahagan 1,000 


1,125 

I count myself good for a thousand, for so I was regularly 
rated in the army : with this great benefit to it, that I only con- 
sumed as much as an ordinary mortal. We were then, as far 
as the victuals went, 126 mouths ; as combatants we numbered 
1,040 gallant men, with 12 guns and a fort, against Holkar and 
his 12,000. No such alarming odds, if — 

If!— ay, there was the rub — if we had shot , as well as powder 
for our guns ; if we had not only men but meat . Of the former 
commodity we had only three rounds for each piece. Of the 
latter, upon my sacred honor, to feed 126 souls, we had but 

Two drumsticks of fowls, and a bone of ham. 

Fourteen bottles of ginger-beer. 

Of soda-water, four ditto. 

Two bottles of fine Spanish olives. 

Raspberry cream — the remainder of two dishes. 

Seven macaroons, lying in the puddle of a demolished trifle. 

Half a drum of best Turkey figs. 

Some bits of broken bread ; two Dutch cheeses (whole) ; the crust of an old 
Stilton ; and about an ounce of almonds and raisins. 

Three ham-sandwiches, and a. pot of currant-jelly, and 197 bottles of brandy, rum, 
madeira, pale ale (my private stock) ; a couple of hard eggs for a salad, and 
a flask of Florence oil. 

This was the provision for the whole garrison I The men 

*3 


HE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


190 

after supper had seized upon the relics of the repast, as they 
were carried off from the table ; and these were the miserable 
remnants I found and counted on my return, taking good care 
to lock the door of the supper-room, and treasure what little 
sustenance still remained in it. 

When I appeared in the saloon, now lighted up by the morn- 
ing sun, I not only caused a sensation myself, but felt one in my 
own bosom, which was of the most painful description. Oh, my 
reader ! may you never behold such a sight as that which pre- 
sented itself : eighty-three men and women in ball-dresses ; the 
former with their lank powdered locks streaming over their 
faces ; the latter with faded flowers, uncurled wigs, smudged 
rouge, blear eyes, draggling feathers, rumpled satins — each 
more desperately melancholy and hideous than the other — each, 
except my beloved Belinda Bulcher, whose raven ringlets never 
having been in curl could of course never go out of curl ; whose 
cheek, pale as the lily, could, as it may naturally be supposed, 
grow no paler ; whose neck and beauteous arms, dazzling as 
alabaster, needed no pearl-powder, and therefore, as I need not 
state, did not suffer because the pearl-powder had come off. 
Joy (deft link-boy !) lit his lamps in each of her eyes as I 
entered. As if I had been her sun, her spring, lo ! blushing 
roses mantled in her cheek ! Seventy-three ladies, as I entered, 
opened their fire upon me, and stunned me with cross-ques- 
tions, regarding my adventures in the camp — she, as she saw me, 
gave a faint scream, (the sweetest, sure, that ever gurgled 
through the throat of a woman !) then started up — then made 
as if she would sit down — then moved backwards — then tottered 
forwards — then tumbled into my — Psha ! why recall, why 
attempt to describe that delicious — that passionate greeting of 
two young hearts ? What was the surrounding crowd to us ? 
What cared we for the sneers of the men, the titters of the 
jealous women, the shrill “ Upon my word ! ” of the elder Miss 
Bulcher, and the loud expostulations of Belinda’s mamma? 
The brave girl loved me, and wept in my arms. “ Goliah ! my 
Goliah ! ” said she, “ my brave, my beautiful, thou art returned, 
and hope comes back with thee. Oh ! who can tell the anguish 
of my soul, during this dreadful, dreadful night ! ” Other similar 
ejaculations of love and joy she uttered ; and if I had perilled 
life in her service, if I did believe that hope of escape there 
was none, so exquisite was the moment of our meeting, that I 
forgot all else in this overwhelming joy ! 

* * # * * 

(The Major’s description of this meeting, which lasted al 


OF M Ay OR GAHAGAN, 


I 9 t 

the very most not ten seconds, occupies thirteen pages of writ- 
ing. We have been compelled to dock off twelve-and-a-half ; 
for the whole passage, though highly creditable to his feelings, 
might possibly be tedious to the reader.] 

# # # # # 

As I said, the ladies and gentlemen were inclined to sneer, 
and were giggling audibly. I led the dear girl to a chair, and, 
scowling round with a tremendous fierceness, which those who 
know me know I can sometimes put on, I shouted out, “ Hark 
ye ! men and women — I am this lady’s truest knight — her hus- 
band I hope one day to be. I am commander, too, in this fort 
— the enemy is without it ; another word of mockery — another 
glance of scorn — and, by heaven, I will hurl every man and 
woman from the battlements, a prey to the ruffianly Holkar ! ” 
This quieted them. I am a man of my word, and none of them 
stirred or looked disrespectfully from that moment. 

It was now my turn to make them look foolish. Mrs. Vande- 
gobbleschroy (whose unfailing appetite is pretty well known to 
every person who has been in India) cried, “ Well, Captain 
Gahagan, your ball has been pleasant, and the supper was de- 
spatched so long ago, that myself and the ladies would be very 
glad of a little breakfast.” And Mrs. Van giggled as if she 
had made a very witty and reasonable speech. “ Oh ! break- 
fast by all means,” said the rest ; “ we really are dying for a 
warm cup of tea.” 

“ Is it bohay tay or souchong tay that you’d like, ladies ? ” 
says I. 

“ Nonsense, you silly man ; any tea you like,” said fat Mrs. 
Van. 

“ What do you say, then, to some prime gunpowder ? ” Of 
course they said it was the very thing. 

“ And do you like hot rowls or cowld — muffins or crumpets 
— fresh butter or salt? And you, gentlemen, what do you say 
to some ilegant divvled-kidneys for yourselves, and just a trifle 
of grilled turkeys, and a couple of hundthred new-laid eggs 
for the ladies ? ” 

“ Pooh, pooh ! be it as you will, my dear fellow,” answered 
they all. 

“ But stop,” says I. “ O ladies, O ladies : O gentlemen, 
gentlemen, that you should ever have come to the quarters of 
Goliah Gahagan, and he been without — ” 

“ What ? ” said they, in a breath. 

“ Alas ! alas ! I have not got a single stick of chocolate in 
the whole house.” 


192 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


“Well, well, we can do without it.” 

“ Or a single pound of coffee.” 

“ Never mind ; let that pass too.” (Mrs. Van and the rest 
were beginning to look alarmed.) 

“And about the kidneys — now I remember, the black div- 
vies outside the fort have seized upon all the sheep ; and how 
are we to have kidneys without them ? ” (Here there was a 
slight o — o — o !) 

“ And with regard to the milk and crame, it may be remarked 
that the cows are likewise in pawn, and not a single drop can 
be had for money or love : but we can beat up eggs, you know, 
in the tay, which will be just as good.” 

“ Oh ! just as good.” 

“ Only the divvle’s in the luck, there’s not a fresh egg to be 
had — no, nor a fresh chicken,” continued I, “ nor a stale one 
either ; nor a tayspoonful of souchong, nor a thimbleful of bo- 
hay ; nor the laste taste in life of butther, salt or fresh ; nor 
hot rowls or cowld ! ” 

“In the name of heaven!” said Mrs. Van, growing very 
pale, “ what is there, then ? ” 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll tell you what there is now/ 
shouted I. “ There’s 

“ Two drumsticks of fowls, and a bone of ham. 

Fourteen bottles of ginger-beer,” &c., &c., &c. 

And I went through the whole list of eatables as before, end- 
ing with the ham-sandwiches and the pot of jelly. 

“ Law ! Mr. Gahagan,” said Mrs. Colonel Vandegobble- 
schroy, “ give me the ham-sandwiches — I must manage to break- 
fast off them.” 

And you should have heard the pretty to-do there was at 
this modest proposition ! Of course I did not accede to it — • 
why should I ? I was the commander of the fort, and intended 
to keep these three very sandwiches for the use of myself and 
my dear Belinda. “ Ladies,” said I, “ there are in this fort one 
hundred and twenty-six souls, and this is all the food which is 
to last us during the siege. Meat there is none — of drink there 
is a tolerable quantity ; and at one o’clock punctually, a glass 
of wine and one olive shall be served out to each woman : the 
men will receive two glasses, and an olive and a fig — and this 
must be your food during the siege. Lord Lake cannot be ab- 
sent more than three days ; and if he be — why, still there is a 
chance — why do I say a chance ? — a certainty of escaping from 
the hands of these ruffians.” 


OF MAJOR GAMA GAM. 


*93 

“ Oh, name it, name it, dear Captain Gahagan I " screeched 
the whole covey at a breath. 

“ It lies/’ answered I, “ in the powder magazine. I will blow 
this fort, and all it contains, to atoms, ere it becomes the prey 
of Holkar." 

The women, at this, raised a squeal that might have been 
heard in Holkar’s camp, and fainted in different directions ; 
but my dear Belinda whispered in my ear, “ Well done, thou 
noble knight ! bravely said, my heart's Goliah ! ” I felt I was 
right : I could have blown her up twenty times for the luxury 
of that single moment ! “ And now, ladies," said I, “ I must 

leave you. The two chaplains will remain with you to administer 
professional consolation — the other gentlemen will follow me 
up stairs to the ramparts, where I shall find plenty of work for 
them." 


Chapter VII. 

THE ESCAPE. 

Loth as they were, these gentlemen had nothing for it but 
to obey, and they accordingly followed me to the ramparts, 
where I proceeded to review my men. The fort, in my ab- 
sence, had been left in command of Lieutenant Macgillicuddy, 
a countryman of my own (with whom, as may be seen in an 
early chapter of my memoirs, I had an affair of honor) ; and 
the prisoner Bobbachy Bahawder, whom I had only stunned, 
never wishing to kill him, had been left in charge of that officer. 
Three of the garrison (one of them a man of the Ahmednuggar 
Irregulars, my own body-servant, Ghorumsaug above named,) 
were appointed to watch the captive by turns, and never leave 
him out of their sight. The lieutenant was instructed to look 
to them and to their prisoner, and as Bobbachy was severely 
injured by the blow which I had given him, and was, moreover, 
bound hand and foot, and gagged smartly with cords, I con- 
sidered myself sure of his person. 

Macgillicuddy did not make his appearance when I reviewed 
my little force, and the three havildars were likewise absent : 
this did not surprise me, as I had told them not to leave their 
prisoner ; but desirous to speak with the lieutenant, I de* 


194 


THE TREMENDOUS A D VENTURES 


spatched a messenger to him, and ordered him to appear im- 
mediately. 

The messenger came back ; he was looking ghastly pale : 
he whispered some information into my ear, which instantly 
caused me to hasten to the apartments where I had caused 
Bobbachy Bahawder to be confined. 

The men had fled ; — Bobbachy had fled ; and in his place, 
fancy my astonishment when I found — with a rope cutting his 
naturally wide mouth almost into his ears — with a dreadful 
sabre-cut across his forehead — with his legs tied over his head, 
and his arms tied between his legs — my unhappy, my attached 
friend — Mortimer Macgillicuddy ! 

He had been in this position for about three hours — it was 
the very position in which I had caused Bobbachy Bahawder to 
be placed — an attitude uncomfortable, it is true, but one which 
renders escape impossible, unless treason aid the prisoner. 

I restored the lieutenant to his natural erect position : I 
poured half a bottle of whiskey down the immensely enlarged 
orifice of his mouth, and when he had been released, he in- 
formed me of the circumstances that had taken place. 

Fool that I was ! idiot ! — upon my return to the fort, to have 
been anxious about my personal appearance, and to have spent 
a couple of hours in removing the artificial blackening from my 
beard and complexion, instead of going to examine my prisoner 
— when his escape would have been prevented. O foppery, 
foppery ! — it was that cursed love of personal appearance which 
had led me to forget my duty to my general, my country, my 
monarch, and my own honor ! 

Thus it was that the escape took place : — My own fellow of 
the Irregulars, whom I had summoned to dress me, performed 
the operation to my satisfaction, invested me with the elegant 
uniform of my corps, and removed the Pitan’s disguise, which 
I had taken from the back of the prostrate Bobbachy Bahawder. 
What did the rogue do next ? — Why, he carried back the dress 
to the Bobbachy — he put it, once more, on its right owner ; he 
and his infernal black companions (who had been won over by 
the Bobbachy with promises of enormous reward), gagged 
Macgillicuddy, who was going the rounds, and then marched 
with the Indian coolly up to the outer gate, and gave the word. 
The sentinel, thinking it was myself who had first come in, and 
was as likely to go out again — (indeed my rascally valet said 
that Gahagan Sahib was about to go out with him and his two 
companions to reconnoitre,) — opened the gates, and off they 
went! 


OF MAJOR G A IIAG AN. 


*95 

This accounted for the confusion of my valet when 1 
entered ! — and for the scoundrel’s speech, that the lieutenant 
had just been the rounds ; — he had \ poor fellow, and had been 
seized and bound in this cruel way. The three men, with their 
liberated prisoner, had just been on the point of escape, when 
my arrival disconcerted them : I had changed the guard at the 
gate (whom they had won over likewise) ; and yet, although they 
had overcome poor Mac, and although they were ready for the 
start, they had positively no means for effecting their escape, 
until I was ass enough to put means in their way. Fool ! fool ! 
thrice besotted fool that I was, to think of my own silly person 
when I should have been occupied solely with my public duty. 

From Macgillicuddy’s incoherent accounts, as he was gasp- 
ing from the effects of the gag and the whiskey he had taken 
to revive him, and from my own subsequent observations, I 
learned this sad story. A sudden and painful thought struck 
me — my precious box ! — I rushed back, I found that box — I 
have it still. Opening it, there, where I had left ingots, sacks 
of bright tomauns, kopeks and rupees, strings of diamonds as 
big as ducks’ eggs, rubies as red as the lips of my Belinda, 
countless strings of pearls, amethysts, emeralds, piles upon 
piles of bank-notes — I found — a piece of paper ! with a few 
lines in the Sanscrit language, which are thus, word for word, 
translated : — 

“ EPIGRAM. 

“ ( On disappointing a certain Major.) 

44 The conquering lion return’d with his prey, 

And safe in his cavern he set it, 

The sly little fox stole the booty away ; 

And as he escaped, to the lion did say, 

4 Aha ! don’t you wish you may get it ? * ” 

Confusion ! Oh, how my blood boiled as I read these cut 
ting lines. I stamped, — I swore, — I don’t know to what insane 
lengths my rage might have carried me, had not at this moment 
a soldier rushed in, screaming, “ The enemy, the enemy 1 n 


196 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


Chapter VIII. 

THE CAPTIVE. 

It was high time, indeed, that I should make my appearance. 
Waving my sword with one hand and seizing my telescope with 
the other, I at once frightened and examined the enemy. Well 
they knew when they saw that flamingo plume floating in the 
breeze — that awful figure standing in the breach — that waving 
war-sword sparkling in the sky — well, I say, they knew the 
name of the humble individual who owned the sword, the 
plume, and the figure. The ruffians were mustered in front, 
the cavalry behind. The flags were flying, the drums, gongs, 
tambourines, violoncellos, and other instruments of Eastern 
music, raised in the air a strange, barbaric melody ; the officers 
(yatabals), mounted on white dromedaries, were seen galloping 
to and fro, carrying to the advancing hosts the orders of Holkar. 

You see that two sides of the fort of Futtyghur (rising as it 
does on a roch that is almost perpendicular) are defended by 
the Burrumpooter river, two hundred feet deep at this point, 
and a thousand yards wide, so that I had no fear about them 
attacking me in that quarter. My guns, therefore (with their 
six and thirty miserable charges of shot) were dragged round 
to the point at which I conceived Holkar would be most likely 
to attack me. I was in a situation that I did not dare to fire, 
except at'such times as I could kill a hundred men by a single 
discharge of a cannon ; so the attacking party marched and 
marched, very strongly, about a mile and a half off, the ele- 
phants marching without receiving the slightest damage from us, 
until they had come to within four hundred yards of our walls 
(the rogues knew all the secrets of our weakness, through the 
betrayal of the dastardly Ghorumsaug, or they never would 
have ventured so near). At that distance — it was about the 
spot where the Futtyghur hill began gradually to rise — the 
invading force stopped ; the elephants drew up in a line, at 
right angles with our wall (the fools ! they thought they should 
expose themselves too much by taking a position to it) ; the 
cavalry halted too, and — after the deuced own flourish of 
trumpets and banging of gongs, to be sure, — somebody, in a 
flame-colored satin dress, with an immense jewel blazing in his 
pugree (that looked through my telescope like a small but very 


OF MAJOR G A HA GAN, 


*97 


bright planet), got up from the back of one of the very biggest 
elephants, and began a speech. 

The elephants were, as I said, in a line formed with admi- 
rable percision, about three hundred of them. The following 
little diagram will explain matters : — 




E is the line of elephants. F is the wall of the fort. G a gun 
in the fort. Now the reader will see what I did. 

The elephants were standing, their trunks waggling to and 
fro gracefully before them ; and I, with superhuman skill and 
activity, brought the gun G (a devilish long brass gun) to bear 
upon them. I pointed it myself ; bang ! it went, and what was 
the consequence ? Why, this : — 


n 



E 


F is the fort, as before. E, the elephants, as we have previ- 
ously seen them. What then is X ? X is the line taken by 
the ball fires from C, which took off one hundred and thirty-four 
elephants' trunks, and only spent itself in the tusk of a very old 
animal, that stood the hundred and thirty-fifth ! 

I say that such a shot was never fired before or since ; that 
a gun was never pointed in such a way. Suppose I had been 
a common man, and contented myself with firing bang at the 
head of the first animal ? An ass would have done it, prided 
himself had he hit his mark, and what would have been the 
consequence ? Why, that the ball might have killed two ele- 
phants and wounded a third ; but here, probably, it would have 
stopped, and done no further mischief. The trunk was the 
place at which to aim ; there are no bones there ; and away, 
consequently, went the bullet, shearing, as I have said, through 


I 9 8 the tremendous adventures 

one hundred and thirty five probosces. Heavens ! what a howl 
there was when the shot took effect ! What a sudden stoppage 
of Holkar’s speech ! What a hideous snorting of elephants ? 
What a rush backwards was made by the whole army, as if 
some demon was pursuing them ! 

Away they went. No sooner did I see them in full retreat, 
than, rushing forward myself, I shouted to my men, “ My 
friends, yonder lies your dinner ! ” We flung open the gates — 
we tore down to the spot where the elephants had fallen : seven 
of them were killed ; and of those that escaped to die of their 
hideous wounds elsewhere, most had left their trunks behind' 
them. A great quantity of them were seized ; and I myself, 
cutting up with my scimitar a couple of the fallen animals, as 
a butcher would a calf, motioned to the men to take the pieces 
back to the fort, where barbacued elephant was served round 
for dinner instead of the miserable allowance of an olive and a 
glass of wine, which I had promised to my female friends, in 
my speech to them. The animal reserved for the ladies was a 
young white one — the fattest and tenderest 1 ever ate in my 
life : they are very fair eating, but the flesh has an india-rubber 
flavor, which until one is accustomed to it, is unpalatable. 

It was well that I had obtained this supply, for, during my 
absence upon the works, Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy and one or 
two others had forced their way into the supper-room, and 
devoured every morsel of the garrison larder, with the excep- 
tion of the cheeses, the olives, and the wine, which were locked 
up in my own apartment, before which stood a sentinel. Dis- 
gusting Mrs. Van! When I heard of her gluttony, I had al- 
most a mind to eat her . However, we made a very comfortable 
dinner off the barbacued steaks, and when everybody had done, 
had the comfort of knowing that there was enough for one 
meal more. 

The next day, as I expected, the enemy attacked us in 
great force, attempting to escalade the fort ; but by the help of 
my guns, and my good sword, by the distinguished bravery of 
Lieutenant Macgillicuddy and the rest of the garrison, we beat 
this attack off completely, the enemy sustaining a loss of seven 
hundred men. We were victorious ; but when another attack 
was made, what were we to do ? We had still a little powder 
left ; but had fired off all the shot, stones, iron-bars, &c., in the 
garrison ! On this day, too, we devoured the last morsel of our 
food : I shall never forget Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy’s despair- 
ing look, as I saw her sitting alone, attempting to make some 
impression or the little white elephant’s roasted tail. 


OF MAJOR G A HA GAN. 


199 


The third day the attack was repeated. The resources of 
genius are never at an end. Yesterday I had no ammunition \ 
to day, I discovered charges sufficient for two guns, and two 
swivels, which were much longer, but had bores of about blun- 
derbuss size. 

This time my friend Loll Mahommed, who had received, as 
the reader may remember, such a bastinadoing for my sake, 
headed the attack. The poor wretch could not walk, but he 
was carried in an open palanquin, and came on waving his 
sword, and cursing horribly in his Hindustan jargon. Behind 
him came troops of matchlock-men, who picked off every one 
of our men who showed their noses above the ramparts : and 
a great host of blackamoors with scaling-ladders, bundles to 
fill the ditch, fascines, gabions, culverins, demi-lunes, counter- 
scarps, and all the other appurtenances of offensive war. 

On they came : my guns and men were ready for them. 
You will ask how many pieces were loaded ? I answer, that 
though my garrison were without food, I knew my duty as an 
officer — and had put the two Dutch cheeses into the two guns , a?id 
had crammed the contents of a bottle of olives into each swivel. 

They advanced, — whish ! went one of the Dutch cheeses, 
bang ! went the other. Alas ! they did little execution. In 
their first contact with an opposing body, they certainly floored 
it ; but they became at once like so much Welsh-rabbit, and did 
no execution beyond the man whom they struck down. 

“ Hogree, pogree, wongree-fum (praise to Allah and the 
forty-nine Imaums!) ,, shouted out the ferocious Loll Ma- 
hommed when he saw the failure of my shot. “ Onward, sons 
of the Prophet ! the infidel has no more ammunition. A hun- 
dred thousand lacs of rupees to the man who brings me 
Gahagan’s head ! ” 

His men set up a shout, and rushed forward — he, to do him 
justice, was at the very head, urging on his own palanquin- 
bearers, and poking them with the tip of his scimitar. They 
came panting up the hill : I was black with rage, but it was the 
cold, concentrated rage of despair. “ Macgillicuddy,” said I, 
calling that faithful officer, “you know where the barrels of 
powder are ? He did. “ You know the use to make of them ? ” 
He did. He grasped 'my hand. “ Goliah,” said he, “ fare- 
well ! I swear that the fort shall be in atoms, as soon as 
yonder unbelievers have carried it. Oh, my poor mother ! ” 
added the gallant youth, as sighing, yet fearless, he retired to 
his post. 

I gave one thought to my blessed, my beautiful Belinda, and 


200 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


then, stepping into the front, took down one of the swivels 
a shower of matchlock balls came whizzing round my head. I 
did not heed them. 

I took the swivel, and aimed coolly. Loll Mahommed, his 
palanquin, and his men, were now not above two hundred yards 
from the fort. Loll was straight before me, gesticulating and 
shouting to his men. I fired — bang ! ! 1 

I aimed so true, that one hundred and scve?iteen best Spanish 
olives were lodged in a lump in the face of the unhappy Loll 
Mahommed . The wretch, uttering a yell the most hideous and 
unearthly I ever heard, fell back dead ; the frightened bearers 
flung down the palanquin and ran — the whole host ran as one 
man : their screams might be heard for leagues. “ Tomasha, 
tomasha,” they cried, u it is enchantment ! ” Away they fled, 
and the victory a third time was ours. Soon as the fight was 
done, I flew back to my Belinda. We had eaten nothing for 
twenty-four hours, but I forgot hunger in the thought of once 
more beholding her! 

The sweet soul turned towards me with a sickly smile as I 
entered, and almost fainted in my arms ; but alas ! it was not 
love which caused in her bosom an emotion so strong — it was 
hunger ! “ Oh ! my Goliah, ,, whispered she, “ for three days I 

have not tasted food — I could not eat that horrid elephant yes- 
terday ; but now — oh 1 heaven I * * * ” She could say no more, 
but sank almost lifeless on my shoulder. I administered to her 
a trifling dram of rum, which revived her for a moment, and 
then rushed down stairs, determined that if it were a piece of 
my own leg, she should still have something to satisfy her 
hunger. Luckily I remembered that three or four elephants 
were still lying in the field, having been killed by us in the first 
action, two days before. Necessity, thought I, has no law ; my 
adorable girl must eat elephant, until she can get something 
better. 

I rushed into the court where the men were, for the most 
part, assembled. “ Men,” said I, “ our larder is empty ; we 
must fill it as we did the day before yesterday. Who will 
follow Gahagan on a foraging party ? ” I expected that, as on 
former occasions, every man would offer to accompany me. 

To my astonishment not a soul moved — a murmur arose 
among the troops ; and at last one of the oldest and bravest 
came forward. 

“ Captain,” he said, “ it is of no use ; we cannot feed upon 
elephants forever ; we have not a grain of powder left, and 
must give up the fort when the attack is made to-morrow. We 


OF MAJOR GAi/AGAM sot 

may as well be prisoners now as then, and we won’t go 
elephant-hunting any more.” 

“ Ruffian ! ” I said, “ he who first talks of surrender, dies !” 
and I cut him down. “ Is there any one else who wishes to 
speak ? ” 

No one stirred. 

“ Cowards 1 miserable cowards ! ” shouted I ; “ what, you 
dare not move for fear of death, at the hands of those wretches 
who even now fled before your arms — what, do I say your 
arms? — before mint!- — alone I did it; and as alone I routed 
the foe, alone I will victual the fortress ! Ho ! open the 
gate ! ” 

I rushed out ; not a single man would follow. The bodies 
of the elephants that we had killed still lay on the ground 
where they had fallen, about four hundred yards from the fort. 

I descended calmly the hill, a very steep one, and coming to 
the spot, took my pick of the animals, choosing a tolerably 
small and plump one, of about thirteen feet high, which the 
vultures had respected. I threw this animal over my shoulders, 
and made for the fort. 

As I marched up the acclivity, whizz — piff — whirr ! came 
the balls over my head ; and pitter-patter, pitter-patter ! they 
fell on the body of the elephant like drops of rain. The enemy 
were behind me ; I knew it and quickened my pace. I heard 
the gallop of their horse : they came nearer, nearer ; I was 
within a hundred yards of the fort — seventy — fifty ! I strained 
every nerve ; I panted with the superhuman exertion — I ran — 
could a man run very fast with such a tremendous weight on 
his shoulders ? 

Up came the enemy ; fifty horsemen were shouting and 
screaming at my tail. O heaven ! five yards more — one 
moment — and I am saved 1 It is done — I strain the last strain 
— I make the last step — I fling forward my precious burden 
into the gate opened wide to receive me and it, and — I fall ! 
The gate thunders to, and I am left oti the outside ! Fifty 
knives are gleaming belore my bloodshot eyes — fifty black 
hands are at my throat, when a voice exclaims, “ Stop ! — kill 
him not, it is Guiputi ! ” A film came over my eyes — exhaust- 
ed nature would bear no more. 


2 02 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


Chapter IX. 

SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUR. 

When I awoke from the trance into which I had fallen, 1 
found myself in a bath, surrounded by innumerable black faces \ 
and a Hindoo pothukoor (whence our word apothecary) feeling 
my pulse and looking at me with an air of sagacity. 

“ Where am I ? ” I exclaimed, looking round and examining 
the strange faces, and the strange apartment which met my 
view. “Bekhusm!” said the apothecary. “Silence! Gaha- 
gan Sahib is in the hands of those who know his valor, and will 
save his life.^ 

“ Know my valor, slave ? Of course you do,” said I ; “ but 
the fort— the garrison — the elephant — Belinda, my love — my 
darling- — Macgillicuddy — the scoundrelly mutineers — the deal 

bo * # * # ’> 

I could say no more ; the painful recollections pressed so 
heavily upon my poor shattered mind and frame, that both 
failed once more. I fainted again, and I know not how long I 
lay insensible. 

“ Again, however, I came to my senses : the pothukoor ap- 
plied restoratives, and after a slumber of some hours I awoke, 
much refreshed. I had no wound ; my repeated swoons had 
been brought on (as indeed well they might) by my gigantic 
efforts in carrying the elephant up a steep hill a quarter of a 
mile in length. Walking, the task is bad enough ; but running, 
it is the deuce ; and I would recommend any of my readers who 
may be disposed to try and carry a dead elephant, never, on 
any account, to go a pace of more than five miles an hour. 

Scarcely was I awake, when I heard the clash of arms at 
my door (plainly indicating that sentinels were posted there), 
and a single old gentleman, richly habited, entered the room. 
Did my eyes deceive me ? I had surely seen him before. No 
— yes — no — yes — it was he : the snowy white beard, the mild 
eyes, the nose flattened to a jelly, and level with the rest of the 
venerable face, proclaimed him at once to be — Saadut Alee Beg 
Bimbukchee, Holkar’s prime vizier; whose nose, as the reader 
may recollect, his highness had flattened with his kaleawn dur- 
ing my interview with him in the Pitan’s disguise. I now knew 
my fate but too well — I was in the hands of Holkar. 


OF MAJOR GAIT AG AM. 


203 


Saadut Alea Beg Bimbukchee slowly advanced towards me, 
and with a mild air of benevolence, which distinguished that 
excellent man (he was torn to pieces by wild horses the year 
after, on account of a difference with Holkar), he came to my 
bedside, and taking gently my hand, said, “ Life and death, my 
son, are not ours. Strength is deceitful, valor is unavailing, 
fame is only wind — the nightingale sings of the rose all night — 
where is the rose in the morning ? Booch, booch ! it is withered 
by a frost. The rose makes remarks regardingthe nightingale, 
and where is that delightful song-bird ? Pena-bekhoda, he is 
netted, plucked, spitted, and roasted ! Who knows how mis- 
fortune comes ? It has come to Gahagan Gujputi ! ” 

“ It is well,” said I, stoutly, and in the Malay language. 
“ Gahagan Gujputi will bear it like a man.” 

“ No doubt — like a wise man and a brave one ; but there is 
no lane so long to which there is not a turning, no night so 
black to which there comes not a morning. Icy winter is fol- 
lowed by merry spring-time — grief is often succeeded by joy.” 

“ Interpret, O riddler ! ” said I ; “ Gahagan Khan is no 
reader of puzzles— no prating mollah. Gujputi loves not words, 
but swords.” 

“ Listen, then, O Gujputi : you are in Holkar’s power.” 

“ I know it.” 

“You will die by the most horrible tortures to-morrow 
morning.” 

“ I dare say.” 

“ They will tear your teeth from your jaws, your nails from 
your fingers, and your eyes from your head.” 

“ Very possibly.” 

“ They will flay you alive, and then burn you.” 

“ Well ; they can’t do any more.” 

“ They will seize upon every man and woman in yonder 
fort,” — it was not then taken ! — “ and repeat upon them the 
same tortures.” 

“ Ha ! Belinda ! Speak — how can all this be avoided ? ” 

“ Listen. Gahagan loves the moon-face called Belinda.” 

“He does, Vizier, to distraction.” 

“ Of what rank is he in the Koompani’s army ? ” 

“A captain.” 

“ A miserable captain — -oh, shame ! Of what creed is he ? ” 

“ I am an Irishman, and a Catholic.” 

“ But he has not been very particular about his religious 
duties ? ” 

“ Alas, no.” 


t04 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


“ He has not been to his mosque for these twelve years ? 99 

“ ’Tis too true.” 

“ Hearken now, Gahagan Khan. His Highness Prince 
Holkar has sent me to thee. You shall have the moon-face 
for your wife — your second wife, that is ; — the first shall be the 
incomparable Puttee Rooge, who loves you to madness ; — with 
Puttee Rooge, who is the wife, you shall have the wealth and 
rank of Bobbachy Bahawder, of whom his Highness intends 
to get rid. You shall be second in command of his Highness’s 
forces. Look, here is his commission signed with the celestial 
seal, and attested by the sacred names of the forty-nine Imaums. 
You have but to renounce your religion and your service, and 
all these rewards are yours.” 

He produced a parchment, signed as he said, and gave it 
to me (it was beautifully written in Indian ink : I had it for 
fourteen years, but a rascally valet, seeing it very dirty, washed 
it, forsooth, and washed off every bit of the writing). I took 
it calmly, and said, “ This is a tempting offer. O Vizier, how 
long wilt thou give me to consider of it ? ” 

After a long parley, he allowed me six hours, when I prom- 
ised to give him an answer. My mind, however, was made up 
• — as soon as he was gone, I threw myself on the sofa and fell 
asleep. 

* # * * * 

At the end of the six hours the Vizier came back : two 
people were with him ; one, by his martial appearance, I knew 
to be Holkar, the other I did not recognize. It was about 
midnight. 

“ Have you considered ? ” said the Vizier, as he came to 
my couch. 

“ I have,” said I, sitting up, — I could not stand, for my legs 
were tied, and my arms fixed in a neat pair of steel handcuffs. 
“ I have,” said I, “ unbelieving dogs ! I have. Do you think 
to pervert a Christian gentleman from his faith and honor ? 
Ruffian blackamoors ! do your worst ; heap tortures on this 
body, they cannot last long. Tear me to pieces : after you 
have torn me into a certain number of pieces, I shall not feel 
it ; and if I did, if each torture could last a life, if each limb 
were to feel the agonies of a whole body, what then ? I would 
bear all — all — all — all — all — all!” My breast heaved — my 
form dilated — my eye flashed as I spoke these words. “ Ty- 
rants ! ” said I, “ dulce et decorum est pro patria mori. ,, 
Having thus clinched the argument, I was silent. 


OF MAJOR GABA GAM 20 $ 

The venerable Grand Vizier turned away ; I saw a tear 
trickling down his cheeks. 

“ What a constancy,” said he. “ Oh, that such beauty and 
such bravery should be doomed so soon to quit the earth ! ” 

His tall companion only sneered and said, “ And Belinda 
? ” 

“ Ha ! ” said I, “ ruffian, be still ! — heaven will protect her 
spotless innocence. Holkar, I know thee, and thou knowest 
me too! Who, with his single sword, destroyed thy armies? 
Who, with his pistol, cleft in twain thy nose-ring ? Who slew 
thy generals ? Who slew thy elephants ? Three hundred 
mighty beasts went forth to battle : of these I slew one hun- 
dred and thirty-five ! Dog, coward, ruffian, tyrant, unbeliever ! 
Gahagan hates thee, spurns thee, spits on thee ! ” 

Holkar, as I made these uncomplimentary remarks, gave a 
scream of rage, and, drawing his scimitar, rushed on to despatch 
me at once (it was the very thing I wished for), when the third 
person sprang forward, and seizing his arm, cried — 

“ Papa ! oh, save him ! ” It was Puttee Rooge ! “ Re- 

member, ^ ” continued she, “ his misfortunes — remember, oh, 
remember my — love ! ” — and here she blushed, and putting one 
finger into her mouth, and hanging down her head, looked the 
very picture of modest affection. 

Holkar sulkily sheathed his scimitar, and muttered, “ ’Tis 
better as it is ; had I killed him now, I had spared him the 
torture. None of this shameless fooling, Puttee Rooge/’ con- 
tinued the tyrant, dragging her away. “ Captain Gahagan dies 
three hours from hence.” Puttee Rooge gave one scream and 
fainted — her father and the Vizier carried her off between them ; 
nor was I loth to part with her, for, with all her love, she was 
as ugly as the deuce. 

They were gone — my fate was decided. I had but three 
hours more of life : so I flung myself again on the sofa, and 
fell profoundly asleep. As it may happen to any of my readers 
to be in the same situation, and to be hanged themselves, let 
me earnestly entreat them to adopt this plan of going to sleep, 
which I for my part have repeatedly found to be successful. 
It saves unnecessary annoyance, it passes away a great deal of 
unpleasant time, and it prepares one to meet like a man the 
coming catastrophe. 

* * * * * 

Three o’clock came ; the sun was at this time making his 
appearance in the heavens, and with it came the guards, who were 
appointed to conduct me to the torture. I woke, rose, was 

I 4 


2o6 


THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 


carried out, and was set on the very white donkey on which 
Loll Mahommed was conducted through the camp after he was 
bastinadoed. Bobbachy Bahawder rode behind me, restored 
to his rank and state ; troops of cavalry hemmed us in on all 
sides ; my ass was conducted by the common executioner : a 
crier went forward, shouting out, “ Make way for the destroyer 
of the faithful — he goes to bear the punishment of his crimes.” 
We came to the fatal plain : it was the very spot whence I had 
borne away the elephant, and in full sight of the fort. I looked 
towards it. Thank heaven ! King George’s banner waved on 
it still — a crowd were gathered on the walls — the men, the das- 
tards who had deserted me — and women, too. Among the 
latter I thought I distinguished one who — O gods ! the thought 
turned me sick — I trembled and looked pale for the first time. 

“ He trembles ! he turns pale,” shouted out Bobbachy 
Bahawder, ferociously exulting over his conquered enemy. 

“Dog!” shouted I — (I was sitting with my head to the 
donkey’s tail, and so looked the Bobbachy full in the face) — 
“ not so pale as you looked when I felled you with this arm — 
not so pale as your women looked when I entered your harem ! ” 
Completely chop-fallen, the Indian ruffian was silent : at any 
rate, I had done for him . 

We arrived at the place of execution. A stake, a couple of 
feet thick and eight high, was driven in the grass : round the 
stake, about seven feet from the ground, was an iron ring, to 
which were attached two fetters ; in these my wrists were 
placed. Two or three executioners stood near, with strange- 
looking instruments : others were blowing at a fire, over which 
was a cauldron, and in the embers were stuck other prongs and 
instrument of iron. 

The crier came forward and read my sentence. It was the 
same in effect as that which had been hinted to me the day 
previous by the Grand Vizier. I confess I was too agitated to 
catch every word that was spoken. 

Holkar. himself, on a tall dromedray, was at a little distance. 
The Grand Vizier came up to me — it was his duty to stand by, 
and see the punishment performed. “ It is yet time ! ” said he. 

I nodded my head, but did not answer. 

The Vizier cast up to heaven a look of inexpressible an- 
guish, and with a voice choking with emotion, said, “ Execu- 
tio?ier — do — your — duty ! ” 

The horrid man advanced — he whispered sulkily in the 
ears of the Grand Vizier, “ Guggly ka ghee, hum khedgerce ,” said 
fie, “ the oil does not boil yet — wait one minute.” The assistants 


OF MAJOR GAHAGAM 


20J 

blew, the fire blazed, the oil was heated. The Vizier drew a 
few feet aside : taking a large ladle full of the boiling liquid, 
he advanced — 

***** 

***** 

“ Whish ! bang, bang ! pop ! ” the executioner was dead at 
my feet, shot through the head ; the ladle of scalding oil had 
been dashed in the face of the unhappy Grand Vizier, who lay 
on the plain, howling. “ Whish ! bang ! pop ! Hurrah ! — for- 
wards ! — cut them down ! — no quarter ! ” 

I saw — yes, no, yes no, yes ! — I saw regiment upon regiment 
of galloping British horsemen riding over the ranks of the flying 
natives. First of the host, I recognized, O heaven ! my Ah- 
mednuggar Irregulars ! On came the gallant line of black 
steeds and horsemen ; swift, swift before them rode my officers 
in yellow — Glogger, Pappendick, and Stuffle ; their sabres 

gleamed in the sun, their voices rung in the air. “D 

them ! ” they cried, “ give it them, boys ! ” A strength super- 
natural thrilled through my veins at that delicious music : by 
one tremendous effort, I wrested the post from its foundation, 
five feet in the ground. I could not release my hands from the 
fetters, it is true ; but, grasping the beam tightly, I sprung for- 
ward — with one blow I levelled the five executioners in the 
midst of the fire, their fall upsetting the scalding oil-can ; with 
the next, I swept the bearers of Bobbachy’s palankin off their 
legs ; with the third, I caught that chief himself in the small of 
the back, and sent him flying on to the sabres of my advancing 
soldiers ! ” 

The next minute, Glogger and Stuffle were in my arms, 
Pappendick leading on the Irregulars. Friend and foe in that 
wild chase had swept far away. We were alone ; I was freed 
from my immense bar ; and ten minutes afterwards, when Lord 
Lake trotted up with his staff, he found me sitting on it. 

“ Look at Gahagan,” said his lordship. “ Gentlemen, did 
I not tell you we should be sure to find him at his post ? ” 

The gallant old nobleman rode on : and this was the famous 
BATTLE OF FURRUCKABAD, OR SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUR, fought 
on the 17th of November, 1804. 

******* 

About a month afterwards, the following announcement ap- 
peared in the Boggleywollah Hurkarru and other Indian papers : 
— “ Married, on the 25th of December, at Futtyghur, by the 
Rev. Dr. Snorter, Captain Goliah O’Grady Gahagan, Com- 
manding Irregular Horse, Ahmednuggar, to Belinda, second 


2o8 TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF MAJOR G A HA GAN. 

daughter of Major-General Bulcher, C. B. His Excellency the 
Commander-in-Chief gave away the bride ; and after a splen- 
did dejeuner, the happy pair set off to pass the Mango season 
at Hurrygurrybang. Venus must recollect, however, that Mars 
must not always be at her side. The Irregulars are nothing 
without their leader.” 

Such was the paragraph — such the event — the happiest in 
the existence of 

G. O’G. G., M. H. E. I. C. S., C. I. H. A. 


THE HISTORY 


OF THE 


NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION. 

[ From a forthcoming History of Europe^ 



THE HISTORY 

OF THE 

NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION. 

[ Front a forthcoming History of Europe?^ 


Chapter I. 

It is seldom that the historian has to record events more 
singular than those which occurred during this year, when the 
Crown of France was battled for by no less than four pretend- 
ers, with equal claims, merits, bravery, and popularity. First 
in the list we place — His Royal Highness Louis Anthony 
Frederick Samuel Anna-Maria, Duke of Brittany, and son of 
Louis XVI. The unhappy Prince, when a prisoner with his 
unfortunate parents in the Temple, was enabled to escape from 
that place of confinement, hidden (for the treatment of the 
ruffians who guarded him had caused the young Prince to 
dwindle down astonishingly) in the cocked-hat of the Repre- 
sentative, Roederer. It is well known that, in the troublous 
revolutionary times, cocked-hats were worn of a considerable 
size. 

He passed a considerable part of his life in Germany ; was 
confined there for thirty years in the dungeons of Spielberg ; 
and, escaping thence to England, was, under pretence of debt, 
but in reality from political hatred, imprisoned there also in the 
Tower of London. He must not be confounded with any other 
of the persons who laid claim to be children of the unfortunate 
victim of the first Revolution. 

The next claimant, Henri of Bordeaux, is better known, 

C325) 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


326 

In the year 1843 he held his little fugitive court in furnished 
lodgings, in a forgotten district of London, called Belgrave 
Square. Many of the nobles of France flocked thither to him, 
despising the persecutions of the occupant of the throne ; and 
some of the chiefs of the British nobility — among whom may 
be reckoned the celebrated and chivalrous Duke of Jenkins — 
aided the adventurous young Prince with their counsels, their 
wealth, and their valor. 

The third candidate was his Imperial Highness Prince John 
Thomas Napoleon — a fourteenth cousin of the late Emperor; 
and said by some to be a Prince of the House of Gomersal. 
Pie argued justly that, as the immediate relatives of the cele- 
brated Corsican had declined to compete for the crown which 
was their right, he, Prince John Thomas, being next in succes- 
sion, was, undoubtedly, heir to the vacant imperial throne. 
And in support of his claim, he appealed to the fidelity of 
Frenchmen and the strength of his good sword. 

His Majesty Louis Philippe was, it need not be said, the 
illustrious wielder of the sceptre which the three above-named 
princes desired to wrest from him. It does not appear that 
the sagacious monarch was esteemed by his subjects, as such 
a prince should have been esteemed. The light-minded people, 
on the contrary, were rather weary than otherwise of his sway. 
They were not in the least attached to his amiable family, for 
whom his Majesty with characteristic thrift had endeavored to 
procure satisfactory allowances. And the leading statesmen 
of the country, whom his Majesty had disgusted, were sus- 
pected of entertaining any but feelings of loyalty towards his 
house and person. 

It was against the above-named pretenders that Louis 
Philippe (now nearly a hundred years old), a prince amongst 
sovereigns, was called upon to defend his crown. 

The city of Paris w'as guarded, as we all know, by a hundred 
and twenty-four forts, of a thousand guns each — provisioned 
for a considerable time, and all so constructed as to fire, if need 
* were, upon the palace of the Tuileries. Thus, should the mob 
attack it, as in August 1792, and July 1830, the building could 
be razed to the ground in an hour ; thus, too, the capital w'as 
quite secure from foreign invasion. Another defence against 
the foreigners was the state of the roads. Since the English 
companies had retired, half a mile only of railroad had been 
completed in France, and thus any army accustomed, as those 
of Europe now are, to move at sixty miles an hour, would have 
been cnnuyed to death before they could have marched from 


NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 


3*7 


the Rhenish, the Maritime, the Alpine, or the Pyrenean frontier 
upon the capital of France. The French people, however, were 
indignant at this defect of communication in their territory, and 
said, without the least show of reason, that they would have 
preferred that the five hundred and seventy-five thousand 
billions of francs which had been expended upon the fortifica* 
tions should have been laid out in a more peaceful manner. 
However, behind his forts, the King lay secure. 

As it is our aim to depict in as vivid a manner as possible 
the strange events of the period, the actions, the passions of 
individuals and parties engaged, we cannot better describe 
them than by referring to contemporary documents, of which 
there is no lack. It is amusing at the present day to read in 
pages of the Moniteur and the yournal des Debats the accounts 
of the strange scenes which took place. 

The year 1884 had opened very tranquilly. The Court of 
the Tuileries had been extremely gay. The three-and-twenty 
youngest Princes of England, sons of her Majesty Victoria, had 
enlivened the balls by their presence ; the Emperor of Russia 
and family had paid their accustomed visit ; and the King of 
the Belgians had, as usual, made his visit to his Royal father- 
in-law, under pretence of duty and pleasure, but really to de- 
mand payment of the Queen of the Belgians’ dowry, which 
Louis Philippe of Orleans still resolutely declined to pay. Who 
would have thought that in the midst of such festivity danger 
was lurking rife, in the midst of such quiet, rebellion ? 

Charenton was the great lunatic asylum of Paris, and it was 
to this repository that the scornful journalist consigned the 
pretender to the throne of Louis XVI. 

But on the next day, viz.: Saturday, the 29th February, the 
same journal contained a paragraph of a much more startling 
and serious import ; in which, although under a mask of care- 
lessness, it was easy to see the Government alarm. 

On Friday, the 28th February, the yournal des Debats con- 
tained a paragraph, which did not occasion much sensation 
at the Bourse, so absurd did its contents seem. It ran as fol- 
lows : — 

“ Encore un Louis XVII. ! A letter from Calais tells us 
that a strange personage lately landed from England (from 
Bedlam we believe) has been giving himself out to be the son 
of the unfortunate Louis XVI. This is the twenty-fourth pre- 
tender of the species who has asserted that his father was the 
august victim of the Temple. Beyond his pretensions, the 
poor creature is said to be pretty harmless ; he is accompanied 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


328 

by one or two old women, who declare they recognize in him 
the Dauphin ; he does not make any attempt to seize upon his 
throne by force of arms, but waits until heaven shall conduct 
him to it. 

“ If his Majesty comes to Paris, we presume he will take 
up his quarters in the palace of Charenton . 

“We have not before alluded to certain rumors which have 
been afloat (among the lowest canaille and the vilest estamineis 
of the metropolis), that a notorious personage — why should we 
hesitate to mention the name of the Prince John Thomas 
Napoleon? — has entered France with culpable intentions, and 
revolutionary views. The Moniteur of this morning, however, 
confirms the disgraceful fact. A pretender is on our shores ; 
an armed assassin is threatening our peaceful liberties ; a 
wandering, homeless cutthroat is robbing on our highways ; 
and the punishment of his crime awaits him. Let no consider- 
ations of the past defer that just punishment ; it is the duty of 
the legislator to provide for the future . Let the full powers of 
the law be brought against him, aided by the stern justice of 
the public force. Let him be tracked, like a wild beast, to hi* 
lair, and meet the fate of one. But the sentence has, ere this, 
been certainly executed. The brigand, we hear, has been dis- 
tributing (without any effect) pamphlets among the low ale- 
houses and peasantry of the department of the Upper Rhine 
(in which he lurks) ; and the Police have an easy means of 
tracking his footsteps. 

“ Corporal Crane, of the Gendarmerie, is on the track of 
the unfortunate young man. His attempt will only serve to 
show the folly of the pretenders, and the love, respect, regard, 
fidelity, admiration, reverence, and passionate personal attach- 
ment in which we hold our beloved sovereign.” 

“ Second Edition ! — Capture of the Prince. 

“ A courier has just arrived at the Tuileries with a report 
that after a scuffle between Corporal Crane and the 4 Imperial 
Army/ in a water-barrel, whither the latter had retreated, 
victory has remained with the former. A desperate combat 
ensued in the first place, in a hay-loft, whence the pretender 
was ejected with immense loss. He is now a prisoner — and 
we dread to think what his fate may be ! It will warn future 
aspirants, and give Europe a lesson which it is not likely to 
forget. Above all, it will set beyond a doubt the regard, re- 
spect, admiration, reverence, and adoration which we all feel 
for our sovereign.” 


NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 


3 2 9 


“Third Edition. 

“ A second courier has arrived. The infatuated Crane has 
made common cause with the Prince, and forever forfeited the 
respect of Frenchmen. A detachment of the 520th Leger has 
marched in pursuit of the pretender and his dupes. Go, French- 
men, go and conquer ! Remember that it is our rights you 
guard, our homes which you march to defend ; our laws which 
are confided to the points of your unsullied bayonets ; — above 
all, our dear, dear sovereign, around whose throne you rally ! 

“Our feelings overpower us. Men of the 520th, remember 
your watchword is Gemappes, — your countersign, Valmy.” 


“ The Emperor of Russia and his distinguished family 
quitted the Tuileries this day. His Imperial Majesty embraced 
his Majesty the King of the French with tears in his eyes, and 
conferred upon their RR. HH. the Princes of Nemours and 
Joinville, the Grand Cross of the Order of the Blue Eagle.’ ’ 


“ His Majesty passed a review of the Police force. The 
venerable monarch was received with deafening cheers by this 
admirable and disinterested body of men. Those cheers were 
echoed in all French hearts. Long, long may our beloved 
Prince be among us to receive them ! ” 


Chapter II. 

HENRY V. AND NAPOLEON III. 

Sunday , Feb. 30th. 

We resume our quotations from the Debats, which thus in- 
troduces a third pretender to the throne : — 

“ Is this distracted country never to have peace ? While 
on Friday we recorded the pretensions of a maniac to the great 
throne of France ; while on Saturday we were compelled to 
register the culpable attempts of one whom we regard as a 
ruffian, murderer, swindler, forger, burglar, and common pick- 
pocket, to gain over the allegiance of Frenchmen — it is to-day 
our painful duty to announce a third invasion — yes, a third in- 
vasion. The wretched, superstitious, fanatic Duke of Bordeaux 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


33 ° 

has landed at Nantz, and has summoned the Vend^ans and 
the Bretons to mount the white cockade. 

“ Grand Dieu ! are we not happy under the tricolor? Do 
we not repose under the majestic shadow of the best of Kings ? 
Is there any name prouder than that of Frenchman ; any sub- 
ject more happy than that of our sovereign? Does not the 
whole French family adore their father ? Yes. Our lives, our 
hearts, our blood, our fortune, are at his disposal : it was not 
in vain that we raised, it is not the first time we have rallied 
round, the august throne of July. The unhappy Duke is most 
likely a prisoner by this time ; and the martial court which shall 
be called upon to judge our infamous traitor and pretender, 
may at the same moment judge another. Away with both ! let 
the ditch of Vincennes (which has been already fatal to his 
race) receive his body, too, and with it the corpse of the other 
pretender. Thus will a great crime be wiped out of history, 
and the names of a slaughtered martyr avenged ! 

“ One word more. We hear that the Duke of Jenkins ac- 
companies the descendant of Caroline of Naples. An English 
Duke , entendez-vous ! An English Duke, great heaven ! and 
the Princes of England still dancing in our royal halls ! Where, 
where will the perfidy of Albion end ? ” 


“ The King reviewed the third and fourth battalions of 
Police. The usual heartrending cheers accompanied the 
monarch, who looked younger than ever we saw him — ay, as 
young as when he faced the Austrian cannon at Valmy and 
scattered their squadrons at Gemappes. 

“ Rations of liquor, and crosses of the Legion of Honor, 
were distributed to all the men. 

“ The English Princes quitted the Tuileries in twenty-three 
coaches-and-four. They were not rewarded with crosses of the 
Legion of Honor. This is significant. ,, 


“ The Dukes of Joinville and Nemours left the palace for 
the departments of the Loire and Upper Rhine, where they 
will take the command of the troops. The Joinville regiment 
— Cavalerie de la Mar me — is one of the finest in the service.” 


“ Orders have been given to arrest the fanatic who calls 
himself Duke of Brittany, and who has been making some dis- 
turbances in th eDas de Calais 


“ Anecdote of His Majesty. — At the review of troops 


NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 


331 


(Police) yesterday, his Majesty, going up to one old grognard 
and pulling him by the ear, said, ‘ Wilt thou have a cross or 
another ration of wine ? ’ The old hero, smiling archly, an- 
swered, * Sire, a brave man can gain a cross any day of battle, 
but it is hard for him sometimes to get a drink of wine/ We 
need not say that he had his drink, and the generous sovereign 
sent him the cross and ribbon too.” 


On the next day, the Government journals begin to write in 
rather a despondent tone regarding the progress of the pre- 
tenders to the throne. In spite of their big talking, anxiety is 
clearly manifested, as appears from the following remarks of 
the Debats : 

“ The courier from the Rhine department,” say the Debats , 
“ brings us the following astounding Proclamation : — 

“ 6 Strasburg, xxii. Nivose : Decadi. 92nd year of the Re- 
public, one and indivisible. We, John Thomas Napoleon, by 
the constitutions of the Empire, Emperor of the French Re- 
public, to our marshals, generals, officers, and soldiers, greeting : 

“ 6 Soldiers ! 

“ ‘ From the summit of the Pyramids forty centuries look 
down upon you. The sun of Austerlitz has risen once more. 
The Guard dies, but never surrenders. My eagles, flying from 
steeple to steeple, never shall droop till they perch on the 
towers of Notre Dame. 

“ i Soldiers ! the child of your father has remained long in 
exile. I have seen the fields of Europe where your laurels are 
now withering, and I have communed with the dead who repose 
beneath them. They ask where are our children ? Where is 
France? Europe no longer glitters with the shine of its tri- 
umphant bayonets — echoes no more with the shouts of its vic- 
torious cannon. Who could reply to such a question save with 
a blush ? — And does ablush become the cheeks of Frenchmen ? 

“ i No. Let us wipe from our faces that degrading mark of 
shame. Come, as of old, and rally round my eagles ! You 
have been subject to fiddling prudence long enough. Come, 
worship now at the shrine of Glory ! You have been promised 
liberty, but you have had none. I will endow you with the 
true, the real freedom. When your ancestors burst over the 
Alps, were they not free? Yes; free to conquer. Let us 
imitate the example of those indomitable myriads ; and, fling- 
ing a defiance to Europe, once more trample over her; march 
in triumph into her prostrate capitals, and bring her kings with 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


33 * 

her treasures at our feet. This is the liberty worthy of 
Frenchmen. 

Frenchmen! I promise you that the Rhine shall be 
restored to you ; and that England shall rank no more among 
the nations. I will have a marine that shall drive her ships 
from the seas ; a few of my brave regiments will do the rest. 
Henceforth the traveller in that desert island shall ask, “ Was 
it this wretched corner of the world that for a thousand years 
defied Frenchmen ? ” 

“ i Frenchmen, up and rally ! — I have flung my banner to 
the breezes ; ’tis surrounded by the faithful and the brave. Up, 
and let our motto be, Liberty, Equality, War all over the 
World ! 

“ ‘ Napoleon III. 

“ 1 The Marshal of the Empire, Haricot/ 

“ Such is the Proclamation ! such the hopes that a brutal- 
minded and bloody adventurer holds out to our country. ‘War 
all over the world/ is the cry of the savage demon ; and the 
fiends who have rallied round him echo it in concert. We were 
not, it appears, correct in stating that a corporal’s guard had 
been sufficient to seize upon the marauder, when the first fire 
would have served to conclude his miserable life. But, like a 
hideous disease, the contagion has spread ; the remedy must 
be dreadful. Woe to those on whom it will fall ! 

“His Royal Highness the Prince of Joinville, Admiral of 
France, has hastened, as we before stated, to the disturbed dis- 
tricts, and takes with him his Cavalerie de la Marme. It is hard 
to think that the blades of those chivalrous heroes must be 
buried in the bosoms of Frenchmen : but so be it: it is those 
monsters who have asked for blood, not we. It is those ruffians 
who have begun the quarrel, not we. We remain calm and 
hopeful, reposing under the protection of the dearest and best 
of sovereigns. 

“ The wretched pretender, who called himself Duke of Brit- 
tanny, has been seized, according to our prophecy : he was 
brought before the Prefect of Police yesterday, and his insanity 
being proved beyond a doubt, he has been consigned to a strait- 
waistcoat at Charenton. So may all incendiary enemies of our 
Government be overcome ! 

“ His Royal Highness the Duke of Nemours is gone into 
the department of the Loire, where he will speedily put an end 
to the troubles in the disturbed districts of the Bocage and La 
Vendde. The foolish young Prince, who has there raised his 


NEXT FRENCH RE VOL UTION. 


333 


standard, is followed, we hear, by a small number of wretched 
persons, of whose massacre we expect every moment to receive 
the news. He too has issued his Proclamation, and our readers 
will smile at its contents : 

“‘We, Henry, Fifth of the Name, King of France and 
Navarre, to all whom it may concern, greeting: 

“ ‘ After years of exile we have once more unfurled in France 
the banner of the lilies. Once more the white plume of Henri 
IV. floats in the crest of his little son ( petit fils) ! Gallant 
nobles ! worthy burgesses ! honest commons of my realm, I 
call upon you to rally round the oriflamme of France, and sum- 
mon the ban arrieYeban of my kingdoms. To my faithful Bri- 
tons I need not appeal. The country of Duguesclin has loyalty 
for an heirloom ! To the rest of my subjects, my atheist mis- 
guided subjects, their father makes one last appeal. Come 
to me, my children ! your errors shall be forgiven. Our Holy 
Father, the Pope, shall intercede for you. He promised it 
when, before my departure on this expedition, I kissed his in- 
violable toe ! 

“ ‘ Our afflicted country cries aloud for reforms. The infa- 
mous universities shall be abolished. Education shall no longer 
be permitted. A sacred and wholesome inquisition shall be 
established. My faithful nobles shall pay no more taxes. All 
the venerable institutions of our country shall be restored as 
they existed before 1788. Convents and monasteries again shall 
ornament our country, — the calm nurseries of saints and holy 
women ! Heresy shall be extirpated with paternal severity, and 
our country shall be free once more. 

“‘His Majesty the King of Ireland, my august ally, has 
sent, under the command of His Royal Highness Prince Daniel, 
his Majesty’s youngest son, an irresistible Irish Brigade, to 
co-operate in the good work. His Grace the Lion of Judah, 
the canonized patriarch of Tuam, blessed their green banner 
before they set forth. Henceforth may the lilies and the harp 
be ever twined together. Together we will make a crusade 
against the infidels of Albion, and raze their heretic domes to 
the ground. Let our cry be, Vive la France! down with Eng- 
land ! Montjoie St. Denis ! 

“ ‘ By the King. 

‘ “‘The Secretary of State 

and Grand Inquisitor.... La Roue. 

The Marshal of France.... Pompadour de l’Aile db 

Pigeon. 


22 


334 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


The General Commander- 
in-chief of the Irish 
Brigade in the service 
of his Most Christian 

Majesty Daniel, Prince of Bally- 

bunion. 

‘ HENRI.’ ” 

“ His Majesty reviewed the admirable Police force, and held 
a council of Ministers in the afternoon. Measures were con- 
certed for the instant putting down of the disturbances in the 
departments of the Rhine and Loire, and it is arranged that on 
the capture of the pretenders, they shall be lodged in separate 
cells in the prison of the Luxembourg : the apartments are 
already prepared, and the officers at their posts.' 

“ The grand banquet that was to be given at the palace to- 
day to the diplomatic body, has been put off ; all the ambassa- 
dors being attacked with illness, which compels them to stay at 
home.” 


“The ambassadors despatched couriers to their various 
Governments.” 


“ His Majesty the King of the Belgians left the palace of the 
Tuileries.” 


Chapter III. 

THE ADVANCE OF THE PRETENDERS — HISTORICAL REVIEW. 

We will now resume the narrative, and endeavor to com- 
press, in a few comprehensive pages, the facts which are more 
diffusely described in the print from which we have quoted. 

It was manifest, then, that the troubles in the departments 
were of a serious nature, and that the forces gathered round 
the two pretenders to the crown were considerable. They had 
their supporters too in Paris, — as what party indeed has not ? 
and the venerable occupant of the throne was in a state of con- 
siderable anxiety, and found his declining years by no means so 


NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 


335 

comfortable as his virtues and great age might have war- 
ranted. 

His paternal heart was the more grieved when he thought 
of the fate reserved to his children, grandchildren, and great- 
grandchildren, now sprung up around him in vast numbers. 
The King’s grandson., the Prince Royal, married to a Princess 
of the house of Schlippen-Schloppen, was the father of fourteen 
children, ail handsomely endowed with pensions by the State. 
His brother, the Count D’Eu, was similarly blessed with a mul- 
titudinous offspring. The Duke of Nemours had no children ; 
but the Princes of Joinville, Aumale, and Montpensier (married 
to the Princesses Januaria and Februaria, of Brazil, and the 
Princess of the United States of America, erected into a mon- 
archy, 4th July, 1856, under the Emperor Duff Green I.) were 
the happy fathers of immense families — all liberally apportioned 
by the Chambers, which had long been entirely subservient to 
his Majesty Louis Philippe. 

The Duke of Aumale was King of Algeria, having married 
(in the first instance) the Princess Badroulboudour, a daughter 
of his Highness Abd-El-Kader. The Prince of Joinville was 
adored by the nation, on account of his famous victory over the 
English fleet under the command of Admiral the Prince of 
Wales, whose ship, the “Richard Cobden,” of 120 guns, was 
taken by the “ Belle-Poule ” frigate of 36 : on which occasion 
forty-five other ships of war and seventy-nine steam-frigates 
struck their colors to about one-fourth the number of the heroic 
French navy. The victory was mainly owing to the gallantry 
of the celebrated French horse-marines, who executed several 
brilliant charges under the orders of the intrepid Joinville ; and 
though the Irish Brigade, with their ordinary modesty, claimed 
the honors of the day, yet, as only three of that nation were 
present in the action, impartial history must award the palm to 
the intrepid sons of Gaul. 

With so numerous a family quartered on the nation, the 
solicitude of the admirable King may be conceived, lest a rev- 
olution should ensue, and fling them on the world once more. 
How could he support so numerous a family ? Considerable 
as his wealth was, (for he was known to have amassed about a 
hundred and thirteen billions, which were lying in the caves of 
the Tuileries,) yet such a sum was quite insignificant when di- 
vided among his progeny ; and, besides, he naturally preferred 
getting from the nation as much as his faithful people could 
possibly afford. 

Seeing the imminency of the danger, and that money, well 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


336 

applied, is often more efficacious than the conqueror’s sword, 
the King’s Ministers were anxious that he should devote a part 
of his savings to the carrying on of the war. But, with the 
cautiousness of age, the monarch declined this offer > he pre- 
ferred, he said, throwing himself upon his faithful people, who, 
he was sure, would meet, as became them, the coming exigency. 
The Chambers met his appeal with their usual devotion. At a 
solemn convocation of those legislative bodies, the King, sur- 
rounded by his family, explained the circumstances and the 
danger. His Majesty, his family, his Ministers, and the two 
Chambers, then burst into tears, according to immemorial 
usage, and raising their hands to the ceiling, swore eternal 
fidelity to the dynasty and to France, and embraced each other 
affectingly all round. 

It need not be said that in the course of that evening two 
hundred Deputies of the Left left Paris, and joined the Prince 
John Thomas Napoleon, who was now advanced as far as 
Dijon : two hundred and fifty-three (of the Right, the Centre, 
and Round the Corner,) similarly quitted the capital to pay 
their homage to the Duke of Bordeaux. They were followed, 
according to their several political predilections, by the various 
Ministers and dignitaries of State. The only Minister who 
remained in Paris was Marshal Thiers, Prince of Waterloo (he 
had defeated the English in the very field where they had 
obtained formerly a success, though the victory was as usual 
claimed by the Irish Brigade) ; but age had ruined the health 
and diminished the immense strength of that gigantic leader, 
and it is said his only reason for remaining in Paris was because 
a fit of the gout kept him in bed. 

The capital was entirely tranquil. The theatres and caf^s 
were open as usual, and the masked balls attended with great 
enthusiasm : confiding in their hundred and twenty-four forts, 
the light-minded people had nothing to fear. 

Except in the way of money, the King left nothing undone 
to conciliate his people. He even went among them with his 
umbrella ; but they were little touched with that mark of confi- 
dence. He shook hands with everybody ; he distributed crosses 
of the Legion of Honor in such multitudes, that red ribbon 
rose two hundred per cent, in the market (by which his Majesty, 
who speculated in the article, cleared a tolerable sum of money). 
But these blandishments and honors had little effect upon an 
apathetic people ; and the enemy of the Orleans dynasty, the 
fashionable young nobles of the Henriquinquiste party, wore 
gloves perpetually, for fear (they said) that they should be 


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obliged to shake hands with the best of kings ; while the 
Republicans adopted coats without button-holes, lest they 
should be forced to hang red ribbons in them. The funds did 
not fluctuate in the least. 

The proclamations of the several pretenders had had their 
effect. The young men of the schools and the estaminets 
(celebrated places of public education) allured by the noble 
words of Prince Napoleon, “ Liberty, equality, war all over the 
world ! ” flocked to his standard in considerable numbers : while 
the noblesse naturally hastened to offer their allegiance to the 
legitimate descendant of Saint Louis. 

And truly, never was there seen a more brilliant chivalry 
than that collected round the gallant Prince Henry ! There 
was not a man in his army but had lackered boots and fresh 
white kid-gloves at morning and evening parade. The fantastic 
and effeminate but brave and faithful troops were numbered off 
into different legions : there was the Fleur-d ’Orange regiment ; 
the Eau-de-Rose battalion ; the Violet-Pomatum volunteers ; 
the Eau-de-Cologne cavalry — according to the different scents 
which they affected. Most of the warriors wore lace ruffles ; 
all powder and pigtails, as in the real days of chivalry. A 
band of heavy dragoons under the command of Count Alfred 
de Horsay made themselves conspicuous for their discipline, 
cruelty, and the admirable cut of their coats ; and with these 
celebrated horsemen came from England the illustrious Duke 
of Jenkins with his superb footmen. They were all six feet 
high. They all wore bouquets of the richest flowers : they wore 
bags, their hair slightly powdered, brilliant shoulder-knots, and 
cocked-hats laced with gold. They wore the tight knee- 
pantaloon of velveteen peculiar to this portion of the British 
infantry ; and their legs were so superb, that the Duke of Bor- 
deaux, embracing with tears their admirable leader on parade, 
said, “ Jenkins, France never saw such calves until now.” The 
weapon of this tremendous militia was an immense club, or 
cane, reaching from the sole of the foot, to the nose, and heavily 
mounted with gold. Nothing could stand before this terrific 
weapon, and the breastplates and plumed morions of the 
French cuirassiers would have been undoubtedly crushed 
beneath them, had they ever met in mortal combat. Between 
this part of the Prince’s forces and the Irish auxiliaries there 
was a deadly animosity. Alas, there always is such in camps ! 
The sons of Albion had not forgotten the day when the children 
of Erin had been subject to their devastating sway. 

The uniform of the latter was various — the rich stuff called 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


338 

corps-du-roy (worn by Coeur de Lion at Agincourt) formed their 
lower habiliments for the most part : the national frieze * 
yielded them tailcoats. The latter were generally torn in a 
fantastic manner at the elbows, skirts, and collars, and fastened 
with every variety of button, tape, and string. Their weapons 
were the caubeen, the alpeen, and the doodeen of the country 
— the latter a short but dreadful weapon of offence. At the 
demise of the venerable Theobald Mathew, the nation had laid 
aside its habit of temperance, and universal intoxication be- 
tokened their grief ; it became afterwards their constant habit. 
Thus do men ever return to the haunts of their childhood ; such 
a power has fond memory over us ! The leaders of this host 
seem to have been, however, an effeminate race ; they are 
represented by contemporary historians as being passionately 
fond of flying kites. Others say they went into battle armed 
with “ bills, ” no doubt rude weapons ; for it is stated that 
foreigners could never be got to accept them in lieu of their 
own arms. The Princes of Mayo, Donegal, and Connemara, 
marched by the side of their young and royal chieftain, the 
Prince of Ballybunion, fourth son of Daniel the First, King of 
the Emerald Isle. 

Two hosts then, one under the Eagles, and surrounded by 
the republican imperialists, the other under the antique French 
Lilies, were marching on the French capital. The Duke of 
Brittany, too, confined in the lunatic asylum of Charenton, 
found means to issue a protest against his captivity, which 
caused only derision in the capital. Such was the state of the 
empire, and such the clouds that were gathering round the Sun 
of Orleans ! 


Chapter IV. 

THE BATTLE OF RHEIMS. 

It was not the first time that the King had had to undergo 
misfortunes ; and now, as then, he met them like a man. The 
Prince of Joinville was not successful in his campaign against 
fhe Imperial Pretender: and that bravery which had put the 
British fleet to flight, was found, as might be expected, insuffi- 

* Were these in any way related to the Che va ux-dc-fr ise on which the French Cavalry 
were mounted ? 


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dent against the irresistible courage of native Frenchmen. 
The Horse Marines, not being on their own element, could not 
act with their usual effect. Accustomed to the tumult of the 
swelling seas, they were easily unsaddled on terra Jirma and in 
the champagne country. 

It was literally in the Champagne country that the meeting 
between the troops under Joinville and Prince Napoleon took 
place ! for both armies had reached Rheims, and a terrific 
battle was fought underneath the walls. For sometime nothing 
could dislodge the army of Joinville, entrenched in the cham- 
pagne cellars of Messrs. Ruinart, Moet, and others ; but 
making too free with the fascinating liquor, the army at length 
became entirely drunk : on which the Imperialists, rushing into 
the cellars, had an easy victory over them ; and, this done, 
proceeded to intoxicate themselves likewise. 

The Prince of Joinville, seeing the deroute of his troops, 
was compelled with a few faithful followers to fly towards Paris, 
and Prince Napoleon remained master of the field of battle. 
It is needless to recapitulate the bulletin which he published 
the day after the occasion, so soon as he and his secretaries 
were in a condition to write : eagles, pyramids, rainbows, the 
sun of Austerlitz, &c., figured in the proclamation, in close im- 
itation of his illustrious uncle. But the great benefit of the 
action was this : on arousing from their intoxication, the late 
soldiers of Joinville kissed and embraced their comrades of the 
Imperial army, and made common cause with them. 

“ Soldiers ! ” said the Prince, on reviewing them the second 
day after the action, “ the Cock is a gallant bird ; but he makes 
way for the Eagle ! Your colors are not changed. Ours floated 
on the walls of Moscow — yours on the ramparts of Constantine ; 
both are glorious. Soldiers of Joinville ! we give you welcome, 
as we would welcome your illustrious leader, who destroyed the 
fleets of Albion. Let him join us ! We will march together 
against that perfidious enemy. 

“ But, "Soldiers ! intoxication dimmed the laurels of yester- 
day’s glorious day ! Let us drink no more of the fascinating 
liquors of our native Champagne. Let us remember Hannibal 
and Capua ; and, before we plunge into dissipation, that we 
have Rome still to conquer! 

“ Soldiers ! Seltzer-water is good after too much drink. 
Wait awhile, and your Emperor will lead you into a Seltzer- 
water country. Frenchmen ! it lies beyond the Rhine ! ” 

Deafening shouts of “ Vive T Empcreur !” saluted this allu- 
sion of the Prince, and the army knew that their natural boun- 


34o 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


dary should be restored to them. The compliments to the 
gallantry of the Prince of Joinville likewise won all hearts, and 
immensely advanced the Prince’s cause. The journal des 
Debats did not know which way to turn. In one paragraph it 
called the Emperor “ a sanguinary tyrant, murderer, and pick- 
pocket ; ” in a second it owned he was “ a magnanimous rebel, 
and worthy of forgiveness ; ” and, after proclaiming “ the bril- 
liant victory of the Prince of Joinville,” presently denominated 
it a “ f unes te jour nee.” 

The next day the Emperor, as we may now call him, was 
about to march on Paris, when Messrs. Ruinart and Moet were 
presented, and requested to be paid for 300,000 bottles of wine. 
“Send three hundred thousand more to the Tuileries,” said the 
Prince, sternly : “ our soldiers will be thirsty when they reach 
Paris.” And taking Moet with him as a hostage, and promis- 
ing Ruinart that he would have him shot unless he obeyed, 
with trumpets playing and eagles glancing in the sun, the 
gallant Imperial army marched on their triumphant way. 


Chapter V. 

THE BATTLE OF TOURS. 

We have now to record the expedition of the Prince of 
Nemours against his advancing cousin, Henry V. His Royal 
Highness could not march against the enemy with such a force 
as he would have desired to bring against them ; for his royal 
father, wisely remembering the vast amount of property he had 
stowed away under the Tuileries, refused to allow a single 
soldier to quit the forts round the capital, which thus was de- 
fended by one hundred and forty-four thousand guns (eighty- 
four-pounders), and four hundred and thirty-two thousand 
men : — little enough, when one considers that there were but 
three men to a gun. To provision this immense army, and a 
population of double the amount within the walls, his Majesty 
caused the country to be scoured for fifty miles round, and left 
neither ox, nor ass, nor blade of grass. When appealed to by 
the inhabitants of the plundered district, the royal Philip re- 
plied, with tears in his eyes, that his heart bled for them — that 
they were his children — that every cow taken from the meanest 


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peasant was like a limb, torn from his own body ; but that duty 
must be done, that the interests of the country demanded the 
sacrifice, and that in fact they might go to the deuce. This 
the unfortunate creatures certainly did. 

The theatres went on as usual within the walls. The 
yournals des Debats stated every day that the pretenders were 
taken : the Chambers sat — such as remained — and talked im- 
mensely about honor, dignity^ and the glorious revolution of 
July; and the King, as his power was now pretty nigh absolute 
over them, thought this a good opportunity to bring in a bill 
for doubling his children’s allowance all round. 

Meanwhile the Duke of Nemours proceeded on his march ; 
and as there was nothing left within fifty miles of Paris where- 
with to support his famished troops, it may be imagined that 
he was forced to ransack the next fifty miles in order to main- 
tain them. He did so. But the troops were not such as they 
should have been, considering the enemy with whom they had 
to engage. 

The fact is, that most of the Duke’s army consisted of the 
National Guard ; who, in a fit of enthusiasm, and at the cry of 
“la patrie en danger ” having been induced to volunteer, had 
been eagerly accepted by his Majesty, anxious to lessen as much 
as possible the number of food-consumers in his beleaguered 
capital. It is said even that he selected the most gormandizing 
battalions of the civic force to send forth against the enemy, viz. 
the grocers, the rich bankers, the lawyers, &c. Their parting with 
their families was very affecting. They would have been very 
willing to recall their offer of marching, but companies of stern 
veterans closing round them, marched them to the city gates, 
which were closed upon them ; and thus perforce they were 
compelled to move on. As long as he had a bottle of brandy 
and a couple of sausages in his holsters, the General of the 
National Guard, Odillon Barrot, talked with tremendous cour- 
age. Such was the power of his eloquence over the troops, 
that, could he have come up with the enemy while his victuals 
lasted, the issue of the combat might have been very different. 
But in the course of the first day’s march he finished both the 
sausages and the brandy, and became quite uneasy, silent, and 
crest-fallen. 

It was on the fair plains of Touraine, by the banks of silver 
Loire, that the armies sat down before each other, and the bat- 
tle was to take place which had such an effect upon the for- 
tunes of France. ’Twas a brisk day of March : the practised 
valor of Nemours showed him at once what use to make of the 


34 * 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


army under his orders, and having enfiladed his National 
Guard battalions, and placed his artillery in Echelons, he formed 
his cavalry into hollow squares on the right and left of his line, 
flinging out a cloud of howitzers to fall back upon the main 
column. His veteran infantry he formed behind his National 
Guard — politely hinting to Odillon Barrot, who wished to retire 
under pretence of being exceedingly unwell, that the regular 
troops would bayonet the National Guard if they gave way an 
inch : on which their General, turning very pale, demurely 
went back to his post. His men were dreadfully discouraged ; 
they had slept on the ground all night ; they regretted their 
homes and their comfortable nightcaps in the Rue St. Honord : 
they had luckily fallen in with a flock of sheep and a drove of 
oxen at Tours the day before ; but what were these compared 
to the delicacies of Chevet’s or three courses at Vefour’s ? 
They mournfully cooked their steaks and cutlets on their ram- 
rods, and passed a most wretched night. 

The army of Henry was encamped opposite to them, for the 
most part in better order. The noble cavalry regiments found 
a village in which they made themselves pretty comfortable, 
Jenkins’s Foot taking possession of the kitchens and garrets of 
the buildings. The Irish Brigade, accustomed to lie abroad, 
were quarted in some potato-fields, where they sang Moore’s 
melodies all night. There were, besides the troops regular and 
irregular, about three thousand priests and abbes with the army, 
armed with scourging-whips, and chanting the most lugubrious 
canticles : these reverend men were found to be a hindrance 
rather than otherwise to the operations of the regular forces. 

It was a touching sight, on the morning before the battle, to 
see the alacrity with which Jenkins’s regiment sprung up at the 
first reveillt of the bell, and engaged (the honest fellows !) in 
offices almost menial for the benefit of their French allies. 
The Duke himself set the example, and blacked to a nicety the 
boots of Henri. At half-past ten, after coffee, the brilliant 
warriors of the cavalry were ready ; their clarions rung to horse, 
their banners were given to the wind, their shirt-collars 
were exquisitely starched, and the whole air was scented with 
the odors of their pomatums and pocket-handkerchiefs. 

Jenkins had the honor of holding the stirrup for Henri. 
“ My faithful Duke ! ” said the Prince, pulling him by the 
shoulder-knot, “ thou art always at thy Post” “ Here, as in 
Wellington Street, sire,” said the hero, blushing. And the 
Prince made an appropriate speech to his chivalry, in which 
allusions to the lilies, St. Louis, Bayard and Henri Quatre, 


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were, as may be imagined, not spared. “ Ho ! standard-bearer ! ” 
the Prince concluded, “ fling out my oriflamme. Noble gents 
of France, your King is among you to-day ! ” 

Then turning to the Prince of Ballybunion, who had been 
drinking whiskey-punch all night with the Princes of Donegal 
and Connemara, “ Prince,” he said, “ the Irish Brigade has 
won every battle in the French history — we will not deprive you 
of the honor of winning this. You will please to commence 
the attack with your brigade.’’ Bending his head until the 
green plumes of his beaver mingled with the mane of the Shet- 
land pony which he rode, the Prince of Ireland trotted off with 
his aides-de-camp ; who rode the same horses, powerful grays, 
with which a dealer at Nantz had supplied them on their* and 
the Prince’s joint bill at three months. 

The gallant sons of Erin had wisely slept until the last 
minute in their potato-trenches, but rose at once at the sum- 
mons of their beloved Prince. Their toilet was the work of a 
moment — a single shake and it was done. Rapidly forming 
into a line, they advanced headed by their Generals, — who, 
turning their steeds into a grass-field, wisely determined to fight 
on foot. Behind them came the line of British foot under the 
illustrious Jenkins, who marched in advance perfectly collected, 
and smoking a Manilla cigar. The cavalry were on the right 
and left of the infantry, prepared to act in pontoon , in echelon , 
or in ricochet, as occasion might demand. The Prince rode 
behind, supported by his Staff, who were almost all of them 
bishops, archdeacons, or abbds ; and the body of ecclesiastics 
followed, singing to the sound, or rather howl, of serpents and 
trombones, the Latin canticles of the Reverend Franciscus 
O’Mahony, lately canonized under the name of Saint Francis 
of Cork. 

The advanced lines of the two contending armies were now 
in presence — the National Guard of Orleans and the Irish Bri- 
gade. The white belts and fat paunches of the Guard pre- 
sented a terrific appearance ; but it might have been remarked 
by the close observer, that their faces were as white as their 
belts, and the long line of their bayonets might be seen to 
quiver. General Odillon Barrot, with a cockade as large as a 
pancake, endeavored to make a speech : the words honneur , 
patrie, Franfais, champ de hataille might be distinguished ; but 
the General was dreadfully flustered, and was evidently more 
at home in the Chamber of Deputies than in the field of war. 

The Prince of Ballybunion, for a wonder, did not make a 
speech, “Boys/’ said he, “we’ve enough talking at the Corn 


344 


THE HIS TOR V OF THE 


Exchange ; bating’s the word now.” The Green-Islanders re- 
plied with a tremendous hurroo, which sent terror into the fat 
bosoms of the French. 

“ Gentlemen of the National Guard,” said the Prince, tak- 
ing off his hat and bowing to Odillon Barrot, “ will ye be 90 
igsthramely obleeging as to fire first.” This he said because 
it had been said at Fontenoy, but chiefly because his own men 
were only armed with shillelaghs, and therefore could not fire. 

But this proposal was very unpalatable to the National 
Guardsmen : for though they understood the musket-exercise 
pretty well, firing was the thing of all others they detested — 
the noise, and the kick of the gun, and the smell of the powder 
being very unpleasant to them. “ We won’t fire,” said Odillon 
Barrot, turning round to Colonel Saugrenue and his regiment 
of the line — which, it may be remembered, was formed behind 
the National Guard. 

“ Then give them the bayonet,” said the Colonel, with a 
terrrific oath. “ Charge, corbleu ! ” 

At this moment, and with the most dreadful howl that ever 
was heard, the National Guard was seen to rush forward wildly, 
and with immense velocity, towards the foe. The fact is, that 
the line regiment behind them, each selecting his man, gave 
a poke with his bayonet between the coat-tails of the Nation- 
als, and those troops bounded forwards with an irresistible 
swiftness. 

Nothing could withstand the tremendous impetus of that 
manoeuvre. The Irish Brigade was scattered before it, as chaff 
before the wind. The Prince of Ballybunion had barely time to 
run Odillon Barrot through the body, when he too was borne 
away in the swift route. They scattered tumultuously, and fled 
for twenty miles without stopping. The Princes of Donegal 
and Connemara were taken prisoners ; but though they offered 
to give bills at three months, and for a hundred thousand 
pounds, for their ransom, the offer was refused, and they were 
sent to the rear ; when the Duke of Nemours, hearing they 
were Irish Generals, and that they had been robbed of their 
ready money by his troops, who had taken them prisoners, 
caused a comfortable breakfast to be supplied to them, and 
lent them each a sum of money. How generous are men in 
success ! — the Prince of Orleans was charmed with the conduct 
of his National Guards, and thought his victory secure. He 
despatched a courier to Paris with the brief words, “ We met 
the enemy before Tours. The National Guard has done its 
duty. The troops of the pretender are routed. Vive le Foi/” 


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The note, you may be sure, appeared in the Journal des Debats \ 
and the editor, who only that morning had called Henri V. “ a 
great prince, an august exile,” denominated him instantly a 
murderer, slave, thief cutthroat, pickpocket, and burglar. 


Chapter VI. 

THE ENGLISH UNDER JENKINS. 

But the Prince had not calculated that there was a line of 
British infantry behind the routed Irish Brigade. Borne on 
with the hurry of the melee, flushed with triumph, puffing and 
blowing with running, and forgetting, in the intoxication of 
victory, the trifling bayonet-pricks which had impelled them to 
the charge, the conquering National Guardsmen found them- 
selves suddenly in the presence of Jenkins’s Foot. 

They halted all in a huddle, like a flock of sheep. 

“ Up , Foot , and at them ! ” were the memorable words of 
the Duke Jenkins, as, waving his baton, he pointed towards the 
enemy, and with a tremendous shout the stalwart sons of Eng- 
land rushed on ! — Down went plume and cocked-hat, down 
went corporal and captain, down went grocer and tailor, under 
the long staves of the indomitable English Footmen. “ A Jen- 
kins! a Jenkins!” roared the Duke, planting a blow which 
broke the aquiline nose of Major Arago, the celebrated astron- 
omer. “ St. George for May Fair ! ” shouted his followers, 
strewing the plain with carcases. Not a man of the Guard 
escaped ; they fell like grass before the mower. 

“They are gallant troops, those yellow-plushed Anglais,” 
said the Duke of Nemours, surveying them with his opera-glass. 
“ ’Tis a pity they will all be cut up in half an hour. Concombre ! 
take your dragoons, and do it!” “Remember Waterloo, 
boys ! ” said Colonel Concombre, twirling his mustache, and a 
thousand sabres flashed in the sun, and the gallant hussars 
prepared to attack the Englishmen. 

Jenkins, his gigantic form leaning on his staff, and surveying 
the havoc of the field, was instantly aware of the enemy’s 
manoeuvre. His people were employed rifling the pockets of 
the National Guard, and had made a tolerable booty, when the 
great Duke, taking a bell out of his pocket (it was used for 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


346 

signals in his battalion in place of fife or bugle), speedily called 
his scattered warriors together. “Take the muskets of the 
Nationals,” said he. They did so. “ Form in square and pre< 
pare to receive cavalry ! ” By the time Concombre’s regiment 
arrived, he found a square of bristling bayonets with Britons 
behind them ! 

The Colonel did not care to attempt to break that tre- 
mendous body. “ Halt ! ” said he to his men. 

“Fire!” screamed Jenkins, with eagle swiftness; but the 
guns of the National Guard not being loaded, did not in con- 
sequence go off. The hussars gave a jeer of derision, but 
nevertheless did not return to the attack, and seeing some of 
the Legitimist cavalry at hand, prepared to charge upon them. 

The fate of those carpet warriors was soon decided. The 
Millefleur regiment broke before Concombre’s hussars instan- 
taneously ; the Eau-de-Rose dragoons stuck spurs into their 
blood horses, and galloped far out of reach of the opposing 
cavalry ; the Eau-de-Cologne lancers fainted to a man, and the 
regiment of Concombre, pursuing its course, had actually 
reached the Prince and his aides-de-camp, when the clergymen 
coming up formed gallantly round the oriflamme, and the 
bassoons and serpents braying again, set up such a shout of 
canticles, and anathemas, and excommunications, that the 
horses of Concombre’s dragoons in turn took fright, and those 
warriors in their turn broke and fled. As soon as they turned, 
the Vendean riflemen fired amongst them and finished them : 
the gallant Concombre fell ; the intrepid though diminutive 
Cornichon, his major, was cut down ; Cardon was wounded d 
la moellc , and the wife of the fiery Navet was that day a widow. 
Peace to the souls of the brave ! In defeat or in victory, where 
can the soldier find a more fitting resting-place than the glorious 
field of # carnage? Only a few disorderly and dispirited riders 
of Concombre’s regiment reached Tours at night. They had 
left it but the day before, a thousand disciplined and high- 
spirited men ! 

Knowing how irresistible a weapon is the bayonet in British 
hands, the intrepid Jenkins determined to carry on his advan- 
tage, and charged the Saugrenue light infantry (now before him) 
with cold steel. The Frenchmen delivered a volley, of which a 
shot took effect in Jenkins’s cockade, but did not abide the 
crossing of the weapons. “A Frenchman dies, but never sur- 
renders,” said Saugrenue, yielding up his sword, and his whole 
regiment were stabbed, trampled down, or made prisoners. The 
blood of the Englishmen rose in the hot encounter. Their 


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curses were horrible ; their courage tremendous. “ On ! on ! ” 
hoarsely screamed they; and a second regiment met them and 
was crushed, pounded in the hurtling, grinding encounter. “ A 
Jenkins, a Jenkins ! ” still roared the heroic Duke ; “ St. George 
for May Fair ! ” The footmen of England still yelled their ter- 
rific battle-cry, ‘ 6 Hurra, hurra !” On they went ; regiment after 
regiment was annihilated, until, scared at the very trample of 
the advancing warriors, the dismayed troops of France scream- 
ing fled. Gathering his last warriors round about him, Nemours 
determined to make a last desperate effort. ’Twas vain : the 
ranks met ; the next moment the truncheon of the Prince of 
Orleans was dashed from his hand by the irresistible mace of 
the Duke Jenkins ; his horse’s shins were broken by the same 
weapon. Screaming with agony the animal fell. Jenkins’s 
hand was at the Duke’s collar in a moment, and had he not 
gasped out, “ Je me rends ! ” he would have been throttled in 
that dreadful grasp ! 

Three hundred and forty-two standards, seventy-nine 
regiments, their baggage, ammunition, and treasure-chests, fell 
into the hands of the victorious Duke. He had avenged thg 
honor of Old England ; and himself presenting the sword of 
the conquered Nemours to Prince Henri, who now came up, 
the Prince, bursting into tears, fell on his neck and said, “ Duke, 
I owe miy crown to my patron saint and you.” It was indeed 
a glorious victory : but what will not British valor attain ? 

The Duke of Nemours, having despatched a brief note to 
Paris, saying, “ Sire, all is lost except honor ! ” was sent off in 
confinement ; and in spite of the entreaties of his captor, was 
hardly treated with decent politeness. The priests and the 
noble regiment who rode back when the affair was over, were 
for having the Prince shot at once, and murmured loudly 
against “ cet Anglais brutal ” who interposed in behalf of his 
prisoner. Henri V. granted the Prince his life ; but, no doubt 
misguided by the advice of his noble and ecclesiastical coun- 
sellors, treated the illustrious English Duke with marked cold- 
ness, and did not even ask him to supper that night. 

• “ Well ! ” said Jenkins, “ I and my merry men can sup alone.” 
And, indeed, having had the pick of the plunder of about 28,000 
men, they had wherewithal to make themselves pretty comfort- 
able. The prisoners (25,403) were all without difficulty induced 
to assume the white cockade. Most of them had those marks 
of loyalty ready sewn in their flannel-waistcoats, where they 
swore they had worn them ever since 1830. This we may 
believe, and we will ; but the Prince Henri was too politic or 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


34 8 

too good-humored in the moment of victory, to doubt the sin- 
cerity of his new subjects’ protestations, and received the 
Colonels and Generals affably at his table. 

The next morning a proclamation was issued to the united 
armies. /‘Faithful soldiers of France and Navarre,” said the 
Prince, “ the saints have won for us a great victory — the enemies 
of our religion have been overcome — the lilies are restored to 
their native soil. Yesterday morning at eleven o’clock the 
army under my command engaged that which was led by his 
Serene Highness the Duke de Nemours. Our forces were but 
a third in number when compared with those of the enemy. 
My faithful chivalry and nobles made the strength, however, 
equal. 

“ The regiments of Fleur-d’Orange, Millefleur, and Eau- 
de-Cologne covered themselves with glory ; they sabred many 
thousands of the enemy’s troops. Their valor was ably seconded 
by the gallantry of my ecclesiastical friends : at a moment of 
danger they rallied round my banner, and forsaking the crozier 
for the sword, showed that they were of the church militant 
indeed. 

“ My faithful Irish auxiliaries conducted themselves with 
becoming heroism — but why particularize when all did their 
duty ? How remember individual acts when all were heroes ? ” 
The Marshal of France, Sucre d’Orgeville, Commander of the 
Army of H. M. Christian Majesty, recommended about three 
thousand persons for promotion ; and the indignation of 
Jenkins and his brave companions may be imagined when 
it is stated that they were not even mentioned in the despatch ! 

As for the'Princes of Ballybunion, Donegal, and Connemara, 
they wrote off despatches to their Government, saying, “ The 
Duke of Nemours is beaten, and a prisoner ! The Irish 
Brigade has done it all ! ” On which his Majesty the King of 
the Irish, convoking his Parliament at the Corn Exchange 
Palace, Dublin, made a speech, in which he called Louis 
Philippe an “ old miscreant,” and paid the highest compliments 
to his son and his troops. The King on this occasion knighted 
Sir Henry Sheehan, Sir Gavan Duffy (whose journals had 
published the news), and was so delighted with the valor of his 
son, that he despatched him his Order of the Pig and Whistle 
(ist class), and a munificent present of five hundred thousand 
pounds — in a bill at three months. All Dublin was illuminated ; 
and at a ball at the Castle the Lord Chancellor Smith (Earl of 
Smithereens) getting extremely intoxicated, called out the Lord 
Bishop of Galway (the Dove), and they fought in the Phoenix 


NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION. 


349 


Park. Having shot the Right Reverend Bishop through the 
body, Smithereens apologized. He was the same practitioner 
who had rendered himself so celebrated in the memorable trial 
of the King — before the Act of Independence. 

Meanwhile, the army of Prince Henri advanced with rapid 
stridest owards Paris, whither the History likewise must hasten ; 
for extraordinary were the events preparing in that capital. 


Chapter VII. 

THE LEAGUER OF PARIS. 

By a singular coincidence, on the very same day when the 
armies of Henri V. appeared before Paris from the Western 
Road, those of the Emperor John Thomas Napoleon arrived 
from the North. Skirmishes took place between the advanced- 
guards of the two parties, and much slaughter ensued. 

“ Bon ! ” thought King Louis Philippe, who examined them 
from his tower; “they will kill each other. This is by far 
the most economical way of getting rid of them.” The astute 
monarch’s calculations were admirably exposed by a clever re- 
mark of the Prince of Ballybunion. “ Faix, Harry,” says he 
(with a familiarity which the punctilious son of Saint Louis 
resented), “you and him yandther — the Emperor, I mane — are 
like the Kilkenny cats, dear.” 

“ Et que font-ils ces chats de Kilkigny, Monsieur le Prince 
de Ballybunion ? ” asked the most Christian King haughtily. 

Prince Daniel replied by narrating the well-known apologue 
of the animals “ ating each other all up but their teels ; and 
that’s what you and Imparial Pop yondther will do, blazing 
away as ye are,” added the jocose and royal boy. 

“ Je prie votre Altesse Royale de vaguer a ses propres af- 
faires,” answered Prince Henri sternly : for he was an enemy 
to anything like a joke ; but there is always wisdom in real 
wit, and it would have been well for his Most Christian Maj- 
esty had he the followed facetious counsels of his Jrish ally. 

The fact is, the King, Henri, had an understanding with the 
garrisons of some of the forts, and expected all would declare 
for him. However, of the twenty-four forts which we have 
described, eight only — and by the means of Marshal Soult, 
who had grown extremely devout of late years — declared for 

23 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


35 ° 

Henri, and raised the white flag : while eight others, seeing 
Prince John Thomas Napoleon before them in the costume 
of his revered predecessor, at once flung open their gates to 
him, and mounted the tricolor with the eagle. The remain- 
ing eight, into which the Princes of the blood of Orleans had 
thrown themselves, remained constant to Louis Philippe. 
Nothing could induce that Prince to quit the Tuileries. His 
money was there, and he swore he would remain by it. In 
vain his sons offered to bring him into one of the forts — he 
would not stir without his treasure. They said they would 
transport it thither ; but no, no : the patriarchal monarch, put- 
ting his finger to his aged nose, and winking archly, said, 4 he 
knew a trick worth two of that/ and resolved to abide by his 
bags. 

The theatres and cafes remained open as usual : the funds 
rose three centimes. The Journal des Debats published three 
editions of different tones of politics : one, the Journal de 
V Empire, for the Napoleonites ; the Journal de la Legitimite 
another, very complimentary to the Legitimate monarch ; and 
finally, the original edition, bound heart and soul to the dynas- 
ty of July. The poor editor, who had to write all three, com- 
plained not a little that his salary was not raised : but the 
truth is that, by altering the names, one article did indifferently 
for either paper. The Duke of Brittany, under the title of 
Louis XVII. ? was always issuing manifestoes from Charenton, 
but of these the Parisians took little heed : the Charivari pro- 
claimed itself his Gazette, and was allowed to be very witty at 
the expense of the three pretenders. 

As the country had been ravaged for a hundred miles 
round, the respective Princes of course were for throwing them- 
selves into the forts, where there was plenty of provision ; 
and, when once there, they speedily began to turn out such of 
the garrison as were disagreeable to them, or had an incon- 
venient appetite, or were of a doubtful fidelity. These poor 
fellows turned into the road, had no choice but starvation ; as 
to getting into Paris, that was impossible : a mouse could not 
have got into the place, so admirably were the forts guarded, 
without having his head taken off by a cannon-ball. Thus the 
three conflicting parties stood, close to each other, hating each 
other, “ willing to wound and yet afraid to strike ” —the vict- 
uals in the forts, from the prodigious increase of the garrisons, 
getting smaller every day. As for Louis Philippe in his pal- 
ace, in the centre of the twenty-four forts, knowing that a 
spark from one might set them all blazing away, and that he 


NEXT FRENCH RE VOL UTION. 


35 1 

and his money-bags might be blown into eternity in ten min- 
utes, you may fancy his situation was not very comfortable. 

But his safety lay in his treasure. Neither the Imperialists 
nor the Bourbonites were willing to relinquish the two hundred 
and fifty billions in gold ; nor would the Princes of Orleans 
dare to fire upon that considerable sum of money, and its 
possessor, their revered father. How was this state of things 
to end ? The Emperor sent a note to his Most Christian Maj- 
esty (for they always styled each other in this manner in their 
communications), proposing that they should turn out and de- 
cide the quarrel sword in hand ; to which proposition Henri 
would have acceded, but that the priests, his ghostly coun- 
sellors, threatened to excommunicate him should he do so. 
Hence this simple way of settling the dispute was impossible. 

The presence of the holy fathers caused considerable annoy- 
ance in the forts. Especially the poor English, as Protestants, 
were subject to much petty persecution, to the small anger of 
Jenkins, their commander. And it must be confessed that 
these intrepid Footmen were not so amenable to discipline as 
they might have been. Remembering the usages of merry 
England, they clubbed together, and swore they would have 
four meals of meat a day, wax-candles in the casemates, and 
their porter. These demands were laughed at : the priests even 
called upon them to fast on Fridays ; on which a general 
mutiny broke out in the regiment ; and they would have had 
a fourth standard raised before Paris — viz. : that of England 
— but the garrison proving too strong for them, they were com- 
pelled to lay down their sticks ; and, in consideration of past 
services, were permitted to leave the forts. ’Twas well for 
them ! as you shall hear. 

The Prince of Ballybunion and the Irish force were quar- 
tered in the fort which, in compliment to them, was called Fort 
Potato, and where they made themselves as comfortable as 
circumstances would admit. The Princes had as much brandy 
as they liked, and passed their time on the ramparts playing 
at dice, or pitch-and-toss (with the halfpenny that one of them 
somehow had) for vast sums of money, for which they gave 
their notes-of-hand. The warriors of their legion would stand 
round delighted ; and it was, “ Musha, Master Dan, but that’s 
a good throw ? ” “ Good luck to you, Misther Pat, and throw 

thirteen this time ! ” and so forth. But this sort of inaction 
could not last long. They had heard of the treasures amassed 
in the palace of the Tuileries : they sighed when they thought 
of the lack of bullion in their green and beautiful country. 
They panted for war ! They formed their plan. 


352 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


Chapter VIII. 

THE BATTLE OF THE FORTS. 

On the morning of the 26th October, 1884, as his Majesty 
Louis Philippe wate at breakfast reading the D'ebats newspaper, 
and wishing that what the journal said about “ Cholera Morbus 
in the Camp of the Pretender Henri,” — “ Chicken-pox raging 
in the Forts of the Traitor Bonaparte,” — might be true, what 
was his surprise to hear the report of a gun ; and at the same 
instant — whizz ! came an eighty-four-pound ball through the 
window and took off the head of the faithful Monsieur de 
Montalivet, who was coming in with a plate of muffins. 

“ Three francs for the window,” said the monarch ; “ and 
the muffins of course spoiled ! ” and he sat down to breakfast 
very peevishly. Ah, King Louis Philippe, that shot cost thee 
more than a window-pane — more than a plate of muffins — it 
cost thee a fair kingdom and fifty millions of tax-payers. 

The shot had been fired from Fort Potato. “ Gracious heav- 
ens ! ” said the commander of the place to the Irish Prince, 
in a fury, u What has your Highness done ? ” “ Faix,” replied 

the other, “ Donegal and I saw a sparrow on the Tuileries, and 
we thought we’d have a shot at it, that’s all.” “ Hurroo ! look 
out for squalls,” here cried the intrepid Hibernian ; for at this 
moment one of Paixhans’ shells fell into the counterscarp of 
the demi-lune on which they were standing, and sent a ravelin 
and a couple of embrasures flying about their ears. 

Fort Twenty-three, which held out for Louis Philippe, see- 
ing Fort Twenty-four, or Potato, open a fire on the Tuileries, 
instantly replied by its guns, with which it blazed away at the 
Bourbonite fort. On seeing this, Fort Twenty-two, occupied by 
the Imperialists, began pummelling Twenty-three ; Twenty-one 
began at Twenty-two ; and in a quarter of an hour the whole 
of this vast line of fortification was in a blaze of flame, flash- 
ing, roaring, cannonading, rocketing, bombing, in the most tre- 
mendous manner. The world has never perhaps, before or 
since, heard such an uproar. Fancy twenty-four thousand guns 
thundering at each other. Fancy the sky red with the fires of 
hundreds of thousands of blazing, brazen meteors ; the air 
thick with impenetrable smoke — the universe almost in a flame ! 
for the noise of the cannonading was heard on the peaks of the 


NEXT FRENCH RE VOL UTION 


353 


Andes, and broke three windows in the English factory at Can- 
ton. Boom, boom, boom ! for three days incessantly the gigan- 
tic — I may say, Cyclopean battle went on : boom, boom, boom, 
bong ! The air was thick with cannon-balls : they hurtled, they 
jostled each other in the heavens, and fell whizzing, whirling, 
crashing, back into the very forts from which they came. Boom, 
boom, boom, bong — brrwrrwrrr ! 

On the second day a band might have been seen (had the 
smoke permitted it) assembling at the sally-port of Fort Potato, 
and have been heard (if the tremendous clang of the cannonad- 
ing had allowed it) giving mysterious signs and countersigns. 
“ Tom,” was the word whispered, “ Steele ” was the sibilated 
response. (It is astonishing how, in the roar of elements, the 
human whisper hisses above all !) It was the Irish Brigade 
assembling. “ Now or never, boys ! ” said their leaders ; 
and sticking their doodeens into their mouths, they dropped 
stealthily into the trenches, heedless of the broken glass and 
swordblades ; rose from those trenches ; formed in silent or- 
der ; and marched to Paris. They knew they could arrive 
there unobserved — nobody, indeed, remarked their absence. 

The frivolous Parisians were, in the mean while, amusing 
themselves at their theatres and cafes as usual ; and a new piece, 
in which Arnal performed, was the universal talk of the foyers : 
while a new feuilleton by Monsieur Eugfene Sue, kept the atten- 
tion of the reader so fascinated to the journal, that they did 
not care in the least for the vacarme without the walls. 


Chapter IX. 

LOUIS XVII. 

The tremendous cannonading, however, had a singular 
effect upon the inhabitants of the great public hospital of 
Charenton, in which it may be remembered Louis XVII. had 
been, as in mockery, confined. His majesty of demeanor, his 
calm deportment, the reasonableness of his pretensions, had 
not failed to strike with awe and respect his four thousand com- 
rades of captivity. The Emperor of China, the Princess of 
the Moon, Julius Caesar, Saint Genevieve, the patron saint of 
Paris, the Pope of Rome, the Cacique of Mexico and several 


3S4 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


singular and illustrious personages who happened to be con* 
fined there, all held a council with Louis XVII. ; and all agreed 
that now or never was the time to support his legitimate pre- 
tensions to the Crown of France. As the cannons roared 
around them, they howled with furious delight in response. 
They took counsel together : Doctor Pinel and the infamous 
jailers, who, under the name of keepers, held them in horrible 
captivity, were pounced upon and overcome in a twinkling. 
The strait-waistcoats were taken off from the wretched captives 
languishing in the dungeons ; the guardians were invested in 
these shameful garments, and with triumphant laughter plunged 
under the Douches. The gates of the prison were flung open, 

and they marched forth in the blackness of the storm ! 
***** 

On the third day, the cannonading was observed to decrease ; 
only a gun went off fitfully now and then. 

***** 

On the fourth day, the Parisians said to one another, 
“ Tiens ! ils sont fatigues, les cannoniers des forts ! ” — and 
why ? Because there was no more powder ? — Ay, truly, there 
was no more powder. 

There was no more powder, no more guns, no more gunners, 
no more forts, no more nothing. The forts had blown each other 
up. The battle-roar ceased. The battle-clouds rolled off. The 
silver moon, the twinkling stars, looked blandly down from the 
serene azure, — and all was peace — stillness — the stillness of 
death. Holy, holy silence ! 

Yes : the battle of Paris was over. And where were the 
combatants ? All gone — not one left ! — And where was Louis 
Philippe ? The venerable Prince was a captive in the Tuile- 
ries ; the Irish Brigade was encamped around it : they had 
reached the palace a little too late ; it was already occupied by 
the partisans of his Majesty Louis XVII. 

That respectable monarch and his followers better knew the 
way to the Tuileries than the ignorant sons of Erin. They 
burst through the feeble barriers of the guards ; they rushed 
triumphant into the kingly halls of the palace ; they seated the 
seventeenth Louis on the throne of his ancestors ; and the 
Parisians read in the Journal des DIbats , of the fifth of Novem- 
ber, an important article, which proclaimed that the civil war 
was concluded : — 

“ The troubles which distracted the greatest empire in the 
world are at an end. Europe, which marked with sorrow the 
disturbances which agitated the bosom of the Queen of Nations, 


NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 


355 


the great leader of Civilization, may now rest in peace. That 
monarch whom we have long been sighing for ; whose image 
has lain hidden, and yet oh ! how passionately worshipped, in 
every French heart, is with us once more. Blessings be on 
him ; blessings — a thousand blessings upon the happy country 
which is at length restored to his beneficent, his legitimate, his 
reasonable sway ! 

“ His Most Christian Majesty Louis XVII. yesterday 
arrived at his palace of the Tuileries, accompanied by his 
august allies. His Royal Highness the Duke of Orleans has 
resigned his post as Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, and 
will return speedily to take up his abode at the Palais Royal. 
It is a great mercy that the children of his Royal Highness, 
who happened to be in the late forts round Paris (before the 
bombardment which has so happily ended in their destruction), 
had returned to their father before the commencement of the 
cannonading. They will continue, as heretofore, to be the 
most loyal supporters of order and the throne. 

“ None can read without tears in their eyes our august 
monarch’s proclamation. 

“ 4 Louis, by, &c. — 

“ ‘ My children ! After nine hundred and ninety-nine years 
of captivity, I am restored to you. The cycle of events pre- 
dicted by the ancient Magi, and the planetary convolutions 
mentioned in the lost Sibylline books, have fulfilled their 
respective idiosyncrasies, and ended (as always in the depths 
of my dungeons I confidently expected) in the triumph of the 
good Angel, and the utter discomfiture of the abominable Blue 
Dragon. 

“ ‘ When the bombarding began, and the powers of darkness 
commenced their hellish gunpowder evolutions, I was close by 
— in my palace of Charenton, three hundred and thirty-three 
thousand miles off, in the ring of Saturn — I witnessed your 
misery. My heart was affected by it, and I said, “ Is the mul- 
tiplication-table a fiction ? are the signs of the Zodiac mere 
astronomers’, prattle ? ” 

“ ‘ I clapped chains, shrieking and darkness, on my physi- 
cian, Dr. Pinel. The keepers I shall cause to be roasted alive. 
I summoned my allies round about me. The high contracting 
Powers came to my bidding : monarchs from all parts of the 
earth ; sovereigns from the Moon and other illumined orbits ; 
the white necromancers, and the pale imprisoned genii. I 
whispered the mystic sign, and the doors flew open. We 
entered Paris in triumph, by the Charenton bridge. Our lug* 


THE HISTORY OF THE 


35 6 

gage was not examined at the Octroi. The bottie-green ones 
were scared at our shouts, and retreated, howling : they knew 
us, and trembled. 

“ ‘ My faithful Peers and Deputies will rally round me. I 
have a friend in Turkey — the Grand Vizier of the Mussulmans : 
he was a Protestant once — Lord Brougham by name. I have 
sent to him to legislate for us : he is wise in the law, and 
astrology, and all sciences ; he shall aid my Ministers in their 
councils. I have written to him by the post. There shall be 
no more infamous mad-houses in France, where poor souls 
shiver in strait-waistcoats. 

“ ‘ I recognized Louis Philippe, my good cousin. He was 
in his counting-house, counting out his money, as the old 
prophecy warned me. He gave me up the keys of his gold ; 
I shall know well howto use it. Taught by adversity, I am not 
a spendthrift, neither am I a miser. I will endow the land 
with noble institutions instead of diabolical forts. I will have 
no more cannon founded. They are a curse, and shall be 
melted — the iron ones into railroads ; the bronze ones into 
statues of beautiful saints, angels, and wise men ; the copper 
ones into money, to be distributed among my poor. I was poor 
once, and I love them. 

“ There shall be no more poverty ; no more wars ; no more 
avarice ; no more passports ; no more custom-houses ; no more 
lying : no more physic. 

“ < My Chambers will put the seal to these reforms. I will 
it. I am the king. 

(Signed) ‘ Louis.’ ” 


“ Some alarm was created yesterday by the arrival of a body 
of the English Foot-Guard under the Duke of Jenkins ; they 
were at first about to sack the city, but on hearing that the 
banner of the lilies was once more raised in France, the Duke 
hastened to the Tuileries, and offered his allegiance to his 
Majesty. It was accepted : and the Plush Guard has been 
established in place of the Swiss, who waited on former sov- 
ereigns.” 


“ The Irish Brigade quartered in the Tuileries are to enter 
our service. Their commander states that they took every one 
of the forts round Paris, and having blown them up, were pro- 
ceeding to release Louis XVII., when they found that august 
monarch, happily, free. News of their glorious victory has 


NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 


357 

been conveyed to Dublin, to his Majesty the King of the Irish. 
It will be a new laurel to add to his green crown ! ” 

And thus have we brought to a conclusion our history of 
the great French Revolution of 1884. It records the actions 
of great and various characters ; the deeds of various valor : it 
narrates wonderful reverses of fortune ; it affords the moralist 
scope for his philosophy ; perhaps it gives amusement to the 
merely idle reader. Nor must the latter imagine, because there 
is not a precise moral affixed to the story, that its tendency is 
otherwise than good. He is a poor reader, for whom his 
author is obliged to supply a moral application. It is well in 
spelling-books and for children ; it is needless for the reflect- 
ing spirit. The drama of Punch himself is not moral : but that 
drama has had audiences all over the world. Happy he, who 
in our dark times can cause a smile ! Let us laugh then, and 
gladden in the sunshine, though it be but as the ray upon the 
pool, that flickers only over the cold black depths below ! 



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and more attractive cover than any other series in the market. 


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“ Mercantile Library, 
“Baltimore, August 29, 1883. f 
u Will you kindly send me two copies of your latest list ? I am 
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find greatly preferable to the ‘ Seaside ’ and ‘ Franklin Square 7 Series, 
and even better than the 12mo. form of the latter, the page being of 
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Altogether your series is much more in favor with our subscribers than 
either of its rivals. 

“S. C. DONALDSON, Assistant Librarian.” 


JOHN W. LOVELL CO., Publishers, 

14 <Sc 1G Vesey Street, New York.. 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY ADVERTISER. 


RECENTLY PUBLISHED. 

False Hopes.; 

OR, 

FALLACIES, SOCIALISTIC AND SEMI-SOCIALISTIC, 
BRIEFLY ANSWERED. 


An Address, by Prof. GOLDWIN SMITH, D.C.L. 


No. 110, Lovell’s Library 15 cents 

“ This is the title of a pamphlet in which Mr. Goldwin Smith dissects and 
lays bare, in the most unimpassioned way, but with the keenest of literary 
scalpels, the fallacies involved in communism, socialism, nationalization of 
land, strikes, the various plans in vogue for emancipating labor from the 
dominion of capital, Protection, and some theories of innovation with regard to 
Currency and Banking. The great number and prevalence of these diseases of 
the body politic are, he thinks, mainly due to the departure or decline of re- 
ligious faith, which is so noticeable a feature of the present age; to popular 
•aucation, which has gone Tar enough to make the masses think, but not think 
deeply ; to the ostentation of the vulgar rich, who ‘ deserve, fully as much as 
the revolutionary artisans, the name of a dangerous class;’ to the democratic 
movement of the times ; and, to the revolution in science which ‘ has helped 
to excite the spirit of change in every sphere, little as Utopianism is akin to 
science.’ ” — Toronto Globe. 


MR. SCARBOROUGH’S FAMILY 

By ANTHONY TROLLOPE. 

lvol., 12mo., cloth, gilt $1-00 

1 “ “ paper 50 

Also in Lovell’s Library, -No. 133, 2 parts, each 15 

“ In ‘Mr. Scarborough’s Family ’ there is abundance of ‘go,’ there are 
many striking scenes, and there is one character at least which is original 
almost to incredibility. There are light sketches of social life, one or two of 
them nearly in the author’s best manner, and many chapters which are ex- 
tremely entertaining. The story is so life-like and so extremely readable, that 
we lay it down with a pleasure largely leavened with regret.”— Saturday 
Review. 

“ ‘ Mr. Scarborough’s Family ’ is a very enjoyable novel. Mr. Trollope has 
never given us two stronger or less commonplace characters than that terrible 
old pa^an, John Scarborough, and his attorney, Grey, whom we agree with his 
employer in describing as ‘ the sweetest and finest gentleman ’ we ever came 
across.”— Academy. „ . „ 

‘“Mr Scarborough’s Family ’ recalls all those features in Mr. Trollope’s 
books which have made them the pleasure and instruction of generations of 
novel readers. He is in his old vein, and he has a story to tell that is infinitely 
amusing. Mr. Scarborough is a wonderful study. There is, indeed, no char- 
acter in the book that has not been carefully thought out. There is a delight- 
ful freshness about Florence Mountjov. She is a fiank, outspoken damsel, 
whose mind is as healthy as her body. It is needless to say that the talk 
throughout the book is good. The novel as a whole, indeed, is one that will 
make readers regret more bitterly than ever that he who wrote it has gone from 
amongst us.” — Scotsman. 

JOHN W. LOVELL CO., 14 & 16 Vesey St., N. Y. 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY-CAT, LOGUE. 


113 . 

114 . 

115 . 

no. 

117. 

118. 

119. 

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124. 

125. 

m 

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120 
no. 
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' 133 . 


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no. 

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More Word* About. tbc Bible 
by Rev. Ja«. S Bush . . . .20 

MongicurLecoq GaberiauPFl- .2 
Monskur Lecoq, Pt. II .,..20 
An Outline of Irish History, by 
Justin FI. McCarthy .... 10 

The Lero life Vase, byGa,bonau..2 > 
Paul CBTord, by Lord Lytton. . .20 
A New Lea^e of Life, by About. . 2 » 

B mrbon Li ies. ... 20 

Other People’s Money, G » bo «-iau - 
The Lady of Lyons, Lytton. . JO 

Amoline ae Hour" ....15 

A Sea Queen, by W, JRiisseL. ..2 
The Ladies Lindores, by Mrs 
Oliphant ... ..... .20 

Haunted Heart®, by Simpson ..1 > 
Lots. 1 o d Bereeford, by The 

Duchess ... . , , . *.20 

Under Two Flags, Ouidu, Pt, I.. 15 

U* der T vo Flags, Pt. ll 15 

Money, by Lord Lytton, 10 

In t'erll of Ill's Lif , by Gaboriau.20 

Jndfa. by Mss. MUikr 20 

J’|j*;a ; m Flashes . .... .20 

Moonshine and Marguerites, by 

The Duchess . . . .10 

Mr Scarborough's Family, by 

Anthony Trollope, Put r, / .15 

Mr Scarborough sFton iy. I- til 15 
Arden, by A. Mary R Robinson. 15 

The Tower of Percmnonfc 2C 

Yolanda, by Wm. Biack ... 29 
Cruel London by Joseph TTatton.20 
The Gilded Cl ; qre : by Gaborlau.20 
Pike County Folks, E. H. Mott. .20 

Cricket on the Hearth 10 

Ilenry Esmond, fey Thackeray.. 20 
Strange Adventures of a Phae- 
ton, by Wm. Black. ........ 20 

Denis Duval, by Thackeray 10 

Old Curiosity Shop, Dickens, PtL 15 
Old Curiosity Shop, Part II. . . .15 

Ivanhoe, by $<** u, Pert I .15 

lvanhoe, by Scott, Part II 15 

Whir# Wings, by Wm. Black.. 20 
The Sketch Bpok, by Irving. . .20 
Catherine, by W M Tfc ^heray.lO 

i anet. 8 Pepei dance by El t, , J0, 
larnaby Pudge, Dickens. Ptli.1 > 

Barnahy Radge, Part II 15 

Felix liolt, by George Loot 20 

Richelieu, by Lord L ‘dor .10 
Sunrise, by Wm. Black, Par* I .15 
Sunrise, by Wm. Black. Part 11.15 
Tour of the World in 80 Days. .2 1 
M ye^ry of Orcival Goborieu. . . .29 
Lo\ v H, the Widower, by W. M. 

Thackeray. 10 

Roma vtic Adventures of a Milk- 
maid, by Thomas Hardy.. 10 
David Copperileid, Dick' ns.Pt 1.20 

David Copperfield, I art If 29 

Rienai, by Lord Lytton, Part I 15 
Rignzi, by Lord Lytton, Part II . 15 
1 ioiaise of Marriage, Gaboriau. .10 
Faith and Unfaitb, by The 
Duchess 20 1 


163, 0- Pappy Men, by Lover... 10 
lol Ihirry L ndon, i y Thackeray..., 20 

V je * Acquittal ..10 

100 Tv e • Thom ud Leagues Un- 

dr be S' a, bv Jules Verne 20 

16T, Anti-Slavery Days, by James 

Freemen Clark .20 

ICS B-nutys Daughters, by The 

Duchess 20 

160. }V> o.nd the Snnri«e 20 

VO. Hard Times by Char: « Dickens 20 

171. Tortv Cringle's Log, by M. Scott. .20 

172. Vanity Puir.Ay W M. Thackeray. CO 
J7V U u dergtonriajRusM •» . Stepniak..20 
174. Middlemarch, by Elliot, Pt I.. ..20 

Middlemans. Part II 20 

17^ SirTom, by Mrs. Oliphant 20 

176 Pelham, by Lord Lytton ..‘.0 

177. The Story of Ida .. 10 

118. Madcap Violet, by Wm. Black.. 20 

179. The Liftle Pilgrim. 10 

180. Kiimeny, by Win Black 10 

1S1. Whist, or Buinblepnppy ? ....10 

I F The Beautiful Wrerch. Bla h 20 

183. Per Mother’s Sin, by 11 M » 'ay.iO 

184. Green Pastures and Piccadilly. 

by Wm Black...., 29 

185. The Mysterious Island, by Jules 

Verne, Part 1 15 

T ie Mysterious Island, Part If. .15 
The Mysterious Island, Par: 111 15 
18G. Tom Brown at Oxford, Part a. . .15 
Tom Brown at Oxford, Port II. .15 

187. Thu her than Water, byJ Payn.30 

188. Jn Siik Aiiire, by Wm. Black. . -0 

189. Scottish Chiefs Jane Porte r,Pt,L CO 

Scottish Chiefs, Part II. £0 

190. Willy Reilly, bjr Will Carlcton. .20 

191. The Nautz. Family, by She: y.nO 

192. Great Expectations, by ckens 0 

193. Pendennis, by Thackeray, P rt L20 
Pendeonis.by ^backerdy, Parti .20 

194. Widow Bedott Papers . . . 20 

195. Daniel Derorda,Geo Eliot, Pt. 1.20 

Daniel Deronda, Part II 20 

196. Altiora Peto, by Oiiphan* 20 

197. By the Ga e cf the Sea, by David 

Christie Murray 15 

198. Tales of a Traveller, by Ir, ing. . .29 
109. Life and Voyages 

5 - y VV r.-v’ii i n Irving, Pa rt 1 . 20 
Life and Voyages of Columbus, 

; by Washington Irving, Part 11.20 

200. The Pilgrim's Projjresi 20 

201. Martin l nuzzle* it, by Charles 

Dickens, Part I 20 

Martin Chuzzlewit. Part IT 20 

202. Theophras. us Such, Geo. Eiiot. . .20 
v ■ i . . • r <1, M\ ■' thani-Ed wards. . 1 6 

I nve -e Anra by Lord Lytton. 20 
205. The Spanish Gypsy and 'Other \ 

•Poems, by Geojge Eliot 20' 

20F Cast Up by the Sea Baker 20 

207. Mil! on the Floes, Eliot, Pt I.. .15 

Mill on the Floes, Part II 15 

208. Brother Jacob, and Mr. Odfll’s 

Love Storv . by George Eliot. . . 10 
, - Wrecks in the Sea of L fe. ... r , .20 


* > 


BRAIN AND NELVE POOD.' 



Vitalized Phos-phites, 


COMPOSED OF THE HEEVE-OIVIHG PBIMCIPLES OF 
THE OX-BHAtN AND WHEAT-OEKM. 

It restores the energy lost by Nervousness or Indigestion ; relieves 
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give9 renewed vigor in all diseases of Nervous Exhaustion or Debility. 
It is the only PREVENTIVE FOR CONSUMPTION. * 

It aids wonderfully in the mental and bodily growth of infanta and 
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It gives a happier and better childhood . 

i( It is with the utmost confidence that I recommend this excellent pre- 
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ure to live.* Many hard-working men and women — especially those engaged 
in brain work — would be saved from the fatal resort to chloral and other 
destructive stimulants, if they would have recourse to a remedy so simple 
and so efficacious. ” 


Emily Faithfull. 


Physicians have prescribed over 600,000 Packages because they 
know its Composition, t#at it is not a secret remedy and 

THAT THE FORMULA IS PRINTED ON EVERY LABEL 


For Hale try Druggists or try Mall, #x, 


F. CROSBY CO., 661 and 666 Sixth Avenue, New York. 









































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